Oh Yeah, Remember The Time You...

Yes, I know this clip is older than the hills but...

Talk about passive/aggressive. It's like, "Remember when you ticked me off 10 years ago?"

"Yeh, take that!!!!"



Still laughing! :)
-

T-Shirt Time!

A Sad Little Life

Whoa! Edit, Edit, Edit!

I'm reminded again of the power of electronics/email.

I'm also reminded that we all should read, then reread email before we hit "send."

I was truly ticked off when I received the email that inspired this rant...but I'm also aware that 20% of life is what we're given, the other 80% is how we deal with it.

So I'll deal with it - in a more constructive way.

























Workin' it.

Forever Is A Long, Long Time

There is a couple named Leroy & Shirley Welch. Time has slipped by and the solid middle class, middle age couple I once knew have turned seventy. Their hair has greyed, his joints hurt, his knees are shot, her back is going and her hearing is gone.

Good deeds they have done - too numerous to mention. Good deeds they continue to do, and I am the recipient of some of those because there are things I can not do myself, things my men folk have chosen to fore go and Leroy has quietly stepped in to take care of them instead.

Every Wednesday, when these sweet people go to the temple, he takes the names of my grandfathers, my great grandfathers, their fathers, and their male children and all the in-laws that I have found and made temple ready...and every Sunday she faithfully returns two completed blue cards to me.

Many people take the names of people they do not know through the temple. Few have the privilege to do the work for their own, immediate, family. While I can do my female relatives, I can not, of course, do the men.  Leroy, two by two, is doing that for me.

One day, I hope to be present, when these relatives come to greet and honor Brother Welch for the service he has rendered. He deserves to be acknowledged for every time he has stood up and sat down on creaking knees, for every moment he has remained attentive so they can understand the ordinances that are being performed for them, and for the hours that have been spent by him in their service. What he does here, today, literally lasts for eternity.

And I will love him forever for that.
-

Once A Year Is Not Enough

And so this is Christmas....

Some stores started holiday displays in August. Others waited, for a week or two.

 We're inundated daily with newspaper ads, flyers, catalogs, commercials & emails. There seem to be a lot of people/businesses counting on this season to put them in the 'black'.

I don't have a problem with Christmas gifts. I've always gone with the idea that we do it in similitude of the gifts the wise men brought to the baby Jesus and to show our love to friends and family. But sometimes the bigger and better thing, the more, more, more?

Umm, not so much. It is getting to be a bit too much for me.

I find myself wondering what happened to the daily appreciation of things that are done for us. Freshly laundered socks in our drawers, a path shoveled thru the snow to the barn, someone who shows up early and stays late. The garbage that is taken out without having to be nagged about it. The folks who, even tho it's not their job, are always there to help, or do a little extra, or share your burden.

I'm thinking that if we really wanted to celebrate Christs' birth we would make ourselves of service, daily. Didn't have time to help anyone today? Okay, tomorrow.

We don't have to be everything to everybody, but there is a lot that we can do for others and if they caught the spirit? And felt the need to pass it on...

Wow.

Just imagine the difference it would make. In our family, in our community, in our country, and if everyone pitched in - in the world.

This has been a busy month for me. Not because of shopping but because I know several people who have had challenges in their lives and really need others to let them know that someone cares.

Wednesday, for example, I worked and ran the regular route then came back in to find extra packages that needed delivering. Technically it wasn't my problem, but someone needed to do something about it.  I had things I wanted to do but I spent the next two hours making sure people got their Christmas presents instead. After that I knew a friend who could probably use a little help but would never ask. I called her and told her I had a spare hour and could I help with her project? She gratefully accepted and three hours later I broke away to rescue The Youngest who was 30 miles away at his swimming practice. By the time I got home the horse was surely thinking about biting me when I finally fed her, and when I was thru tidying up the house and ready to go to bed I almost jumped in fear when I saw the creature who was looking back at me from the mirror.  My hair was pasted to my head from sweat, my makeup was smudged, there were dark circles under my eyes, my clothes, which I'd not had time to change after work, were splattered with mashed potatoes, my legs were cramping from running, bended & rushing to and fro. Hay was stuck to my shoulders. I was a mess.

It was glorious.

I'm no saint. There are days when I'm a total slacker, but I hope I'm always up to lending a hand, and more than that, looking for opportunities to make a difference and not just for my family. Although, I have to admit, that the next time The Commander buys a house, with 6 tons of garbage in the back yard, ummm...yeah, I'm thinking hiring a backhoe will be the way to go.

Meanwhile, I like tinsel and shiny things, but I'm thinking most of us need to remember that there are old folks who are lonely in February, children who are hungry in March, yards that need to be mowed in May and people who just love cookies anytime you can get around to baking them.

We can make a difference.

So we might want to save some of the money we'd spend on something frivolous in December and send it to - say...Africa and make sure a couple of little girls who don't have a chance in hell of facing anything other than poverty and life as second class citizens have a shot, (no guarantees) but at least a shot at having opportunities their mother, and many other women in 3rd world countries, can only dream about.

There is always a rush at Christmas time to do good deeds, have food drives etc. To me, sometimes, it's almost like the people who go to church on Sunday, praise God, but on Monday their attitude is "Church is church, business is business." Then you watch as Sunday's good Christian turns into a snake oil salesman for the rest of the week...

Christmas is wonderful, but...

I'm thinking once a year is not enough.
-

Weather Forecast...Tropical

Thanksgiving came & went in a bluster of winter weather. It got down to 5 degrees on Nov. 25.

It made me grumpy.

I wished for a Chinook. And you know how they say: be careful what you ask for?

This week has been almost balmy. Middle of December and the temperatures have been jumping between 30 & 55. My thermometer said 57 the other day. The snow has melted off the grass and it's thinking of trying to green up.

Dear shrubs, trees and assorted plant friends, please stay asleep for the winter.  :(

AND

While my car window was open yesterday a hornet tried to fly inside.

One does sooo hate to complain but seriously - I don't want to see him or any of his friends for at least another 4 months.

Oh wait.

I know for sure I won't be seeing him again.  he he
-

Help Me Help My Stupid Self

I always take an extra moment before I leave my vehicle on the days that I have to work. I stop and let Him know that I'm grateful for the opportunity to work and ask for help and that He will watch over me & those I care about while I'm away from home.

Sometimes when our Assistant Postmaster hears us drive up she unlocks the door and leaves it open for us to come in. But usually she waits for me to knock so she doesn't interrupt me.

One day she started to open the door, saw it was me and closed it.

I knocked to be let in shortly thereafter.

"Well, that didn't take long," she said as she let me in.

I just grinned.

'Cause, really, it doesn't take long to ask to be able to make it thru the day, and for help to not be a butt head!
-

The Cutest Little Ass I've Ever Seen



The Golden Rule

I was driving The Youngest home.

Suddenly, with no intro or prior conversation topic that would lead to this subject, he blurts, "I hate nicey, nice people."

???

Uh, okay. And?

He struggles to articulate, but is basically saying that he likes people who are more direct, who say what they have to say and who aren't....PHONY!

Ah.

Well son, is it possible that they're just trying to be polite?

"No, no." And, while not telling me of a specific situation he managed to relay his very real frustration with people who he views as not being honest and shared his views that it really isn't nice, it isn't kind and most certainly isn't helpful.

I have to laugh. This kid has been hanging around his mother wayyyy too long.

You know there isn't a mean bone in his body. He's a good kid and very seldom has anything negative to say about other people.

But I know what he's talking about. Most of us are aware of the old...if you don't have anything nice to say - don't say anything at all and we try to follow the golden rule. So we all try to be nice, while remaining honest & keeping our integrity intact and overlay that with compassion - with varying degrees of success.

I was on the computer yesterday and a gal was quite irate. She writes a humor blog and someone else was offended by her writing and commented, chastising the blogger for her language & her attitude. Following are excerpts from her blistering response:

(note - edits are mine)


If you feel like I'm a horrible person for making fun of those people native to the state in which I currently reside, fine. Stop reading my blog RIGHT NOW, drive your uptight *** down here, and see if you can muddle your way through their nonsense. I dare you. Those posts are supposed to be humorous...

Need me to keep going?

If you think I'm promoting drinking and drugs to kids, (where the **** that came from, I'll never know) by telling you people that I have a glass of champagne and a muscle relaxer (or two) to help me sleep some nights -then you fall off a building, break a large percentage of the bones in your body, and then try to lead a somewhat normal life...

Chances are, your kids are learning their bad habits from you, not me. Where do you think I learned how to drink and curse? That's right...my Mama. She's **** proud of it too.

And speaking of... if you think I curse like a sailor, well, then, you're correct. If you have a problem with that, stop ******* reading my **** blog. I don't criticize your obviously fake, 24/7 sunshine and rainbows blog. I don't like yours, so guess what? I don't read it. You don't like mine? Stop ******* reading it.

I didn't start my blog so you could read it. I started my blog so I could ***** about my life. If you happened to stumble across it, fine. (You don't like it?) Keep on stumbling right on over to the next one. I don't need your ********. I have enough of my own, thankyouverymuch.

Oh.

Well.

Blink, blink.

Perhaps a little bit too direct for my taste, (I was definitely suffering from an "F" overload) but yeh, I laughed. She had a fine little rant going on there.

Unfortunately, I've communicated my opinion just as "ably" in other situations. A while back a good friend of mine showed up in church wearing an interesting dress. It was an unusual style for her and had a bold horizontal pattern that would be difficult for even a very slender woman to carry off and my friend isn't quite that thin.... She was walking across the foyer when I turned and saw her. I know my eyebrows raised and I'm sure a big ol' grin started to spread across my face before I caught myself. She looked at me, changed course and made a direct beeline to me.

"I know what you're thinking, and I don't care!" She said. "I actually bought it as a swim suit cover up but it's so comfortable I thought I'd wear it and I don't care what you think, I like it!"

"Well, there you go! That's all that matters and besides, I didn't say a word," I responded smoothly. "You're right, the fabric looks comfortable and it's very cheerful and bright."

She glared at me. I ducked my head and stifled a snort.

I'm sure glad we're friends, (and with any luck that dress will be confined to the pool area in the future.)

Not one of my finer moments... but I tried to explain to The Youngest that finding a medium ground between being blunt/hurtful and coming across as phony is a good thing. And that his young friend(s)  are probably trying to find that middle ground also.

So okay, if you run into the girl who comes across as all fake, 24/7 sunshine & rainbows you still need to be as polite as possible. She might grow into a honest to goodness person, with a decent personality, and sense of humor... someday. There was a young gal who was driving me crazy with the mamby pamby stuff she had going on - I know she was trying to be nice but given the option I'd opt for sincerity. My friend Sharon, saved the day, telling me to be patient with her.

"I was just like that when I was a young woman too," she said.

I looked at her in disbelief... "Nooo."

"Oh yeah, I was realllly bad."

Hard to believe that. Sharon is totally cool, and if this girl turns out half as good as Sharon she'll have something going on!


So, re: phonies? Hang in there son. There are a lot of real people out there.

But sometimes - you just have to wait them out.
-

Truism

...The greater a person's sense of guilt, the greater the urge to blame somebody else...
-

Nothing A Good Chinook Couldn't Fix

Help is on it's way, tomorrow & the next couple of days are supposed to reach into the 40's, meanwhile when it reaches slightly above 32 then drops, refreezes and starts all over again, we get this....

Kinda cool looking, but....

No, just NO!

-

You're In My Space

Padwon & I have an agreement. She's the horse. I'm the human. She weighs 1000 lbs. I weigh...ahemmm, somewhat less. So she needs to respect my space and not be on top of me.

That works - fairly well. I tap her chest, she backs up. When gently pressed on her side or patted on her hip she shifts over/away. But being blessed with the horse sized version of a Kardashian butt?

Girl friend, we're gonna have to get you rear view mirrors. 'Cause if you're at the south end of this north bound horse when she decides to turn, she can really clear the deck.

We've discussed this & I'm working on getting more of a response than the horsie equivalent of, "Oophs, my bad?"

Still, overall she's fairly responsive to me.

But...enter #1 Daughter.

We put the hay into the stall this year. Padwon prefers not to go in there, and it is more convenient to feed under the loafing area anyway. I've never had a problem with her following me into the stall and she waits, somewhat impatiently, for her food to be put in her bucket. But the Daughter, allowed (encouraged her?) to follow her into the stall.

That's when a light bulb went on in that little horse head. Grass/Alfalfa mix hay? Spare alfalfa leaves falling onto the ground? Storehouse of alfalfa leaves in the stall?

Yippee!

Since Thanksgiving, I now open the door to the stall and a little blond head is hot on my heels, her muzzle hits the ground and methodically siphons the alfalfa leaves off the ground. In mere moments she looks like a chipmunk. One of these days I'm going to step back, with an armful of hay, and end up tripping and sitting on her ears.

She's like a dang vacuum cleaner.

Anyone want to rent her?
-

Man Bashing

You heard it here first!!!

Well, maybe not. You may have already read the paper...but today in "Dear Abby" a woman writes -

DEAR ABBY: My husband has a tendency to "almost" complete things, but seldom actually does. The discards make it as far as the counter above the trash container where they belong. The hose carrier gets put back two feet from where it's supposed to go. He'll leave his jacket on the chair right next to the coat closet. Get the picture?

My husband is a great guy and he does a lot around the house. It's just that these "almosts" are so consistent that I'm curious about whether they're symptomatic of a kind of disorder. - Maine Observer

DEAR OBSERVER: With the understanding that I am not licensed in any state of the Union to make a definitive diagnosis, it appears that your husband is either easily distracted or a wee bit...lazy. - Abby

Bwahaha. ROTFL. "Disorder", indeed. Yeh, Observer, him and his legion of brothers!!!

'Nuff said.
-

Justify Your Existence

Ah the best laid plans...

Started the day @ 5:15am again, hopped out of bed, showered, fixed breakfast for The Youngest, and just finished reading scriptures when the phone rang.

6:10am...my plans for the day (such as they were, and what there was of them) were toasted. I was called in to cover for co-worker who wasn't feeling well. So much for TGIF. Scrambled thru the slush & yuck for way too many hours. What's not to like about a 10 hour work day in those driving conditions? Still was going to get done in time to pick The Youngest up from swim practice. First tho, I had to do a little "off the clock" work and help my friend on the other route, who was swamped, deliver a few extra packages. (Gotta work on those brownie points my good deeds!) 

Fetched the kid, brought him home, fixed dinner & fed him, cleaned the kitchen, did two loads of wash, then headed to the church to do our share of cleaning for the week. Had to do it at nite because he and I would be gone in the morning when the rest of the crew would come in... An hour and a half later, after vacuuming up a small mountain of cracker crumbs (grazing appears to be the primary activity for a majority of the kids on Sundays) it's time to go home, fold clothes, pay bills, pick up the house, make sure The Youngest is ready to go to his swim meet tomorrow and that order from Emergency Essentials that just arrived today? Ummm, I think I'll inventory & deliver it - later, much later.

Because the energizer bunny just died.

A lovely day of serving my family, friends, community & church has come to a dead halt. Nothing dramatic happened today, just taking care of "stuff" and trying to leave things in as good as shape as I found them or better, still I'm a whipped pup.

And in six hours....

I get to get up and start all over again.

I can hardly wait!

-

C-CCC-CC-C-OLD.

Long story short?

Friend & I ran out the other night, in her rig, to do a service project. One of those quick in and outs. So I threw on my crocs & a fleece shirt and we went. Tip-toed thru the ice & snow then dashed back to the SUV.

She dropped me at home, I stepped out & just as I was closing the door she hesitantly asked a question.

Oh.

She needed to talk and it was one of those kind of things where you don't want to climb back in because you know she doesn't want to go into this big, long discussion and yet you don't want to impatiently wave the door back and forth and look like you're just dying to get gone....

Instead I just stood with the door open, leaning into the warmth of her rig for over an hour, with my backside hanging out, in the dark, in 25 degree weather, in my summer crocs - you know the ones with ALL the holes in them and no socks...

Oh yeah.

Don't get me wrong. I love this woman. Freezing my tail off is the least I could do for her. I don't regret that but I had to smile when she finally gave a start and realized how much time had passed, then put her rig into gear saying "I'm so sorry, it's sooo cold!"

"Not a problem," I said as I bid her good night and headed into the house.

And really it wasn't. My toes had quit hurting ... when they had gone numb ... about 20 minutes before. ;)
-

Aloha!

My theory has always been that the temperature should stay around 75-80 degrees 24/7. Day in and day out. I'll concede that it would be nice to have snow on Christmas Eve but I'm pretty sure it should all be melted by Christmas Day afternoon when everyone wants to get to their holiday meal.

That's part of the reason I like living in the Tri Cities. No, we don't meet the above requirements but for being in the Pacific Northwest we do enjoy a longer than average growing season and winters are generally mild. Once every 7 or so years we get snow that sticks and stays but most of the time it's bearable.

Unfortunately it's lookin' like it's going to be one of "THOSE" years. In times past, I've had day lilies that have bloomed at Thanksgiving. (Unusual but not impossible) And  a red, red rose tried to bloom on Christmas Eve once. (Okay, I was, and still am, surprised at that!)

But this year? If these pictures I took yesterday are any indication of what it's going to be like, all I have to say is...

Bah humbug!
-

Counting to 10 - Slowly

It has been noted that someone in our household is a bit of a slob.

He can turn in a pretty good performance if he thinks someone he wants to impress is watching. Otherwise, ummm...not so much.

This morning he needs an envelope. He goes to my desk. I can hear him rummaging around.

????

You see it is "my" desk because that is where I pay the bills & file them. It could be our desk if he helped pay the bills or would even discuss a budget with me, but no, that stresses him out. He has enough stress in his life he says and refuses to deal with the bills. He likes to do the "Make it so #1." 

Jean Luc Picard he is not.

Therefore, in my opinion, he has forfeited the right to rummage about, mess up the piles, remove or rearrange items on the desk. He is well known for his ability to stop and drop things all about the house and I don't need to find an overdue bill under the sofa or anywhere else he may have dropped it and then forgotten about it. (I have a hard enough time misplacing things myself without additional help from him, thank you very much!)

Back to my story. He comes back with his envelope and two (2) invoices which he throws on the table with the dirty breakfast dishes.

He is oblivious to the 'look' I give him.

"One of these should be for the radiator for your van," he says.

One?

Should?

"Put it in the van with the rest of the receipts," he says.

Oh dear.

Would this be the receipt that he left laying on the kitchen counter yesterday? The one he emailed me about? Then phoned about? The one I put on my desk for safe keeping until I found other information that I wanted to put in the van along with it?

And if he is going to rummage thru the desk, and has to have it put in the van NOW... then why do his feet not just keep moving and walk the extra 30 feet to the vehicle into which he so greatly desires it to be? Instead he throws it into the sticky ring of apple juice that his glass has left on the table?

I watch his retreating back, then pick the receipts up. Replace the one that still needs to be on my desk, wipe the apple juice off the radiator receipt and go to the garage.

There is a neat little drawer under the front passengers seat. In it are maps, a phone directory, Les Scwab envelopes & a large manila envelope in which I keep all other receipts related to the vehicle. They should be in the 8x10 envelope in chronological order, oldest to newest.

Or not.

Should being the key word here...

I see why he didn't want to put the radiator receipt out here. Apparently the last time he needed a receipt (battery replacement/warranty?) he pulled them all out of the envelope, shuffled through them, then threw the envelope and all receipts back in the little compartment... Only the receipts didn't make it back into the envelope.

It was just like playing 52 card pick up.

Insert annoyed 'smiley face' here.

I didn't like playing that game when I was a kid.

Still don't now.

Must be cold in the garage - small sizzles of steam make a halo around my head.

And I'm left wondering - how do I tell him, in the nicest possible way....

Touch the desk - and die.

???
-

Miss Manners

There is a house that has been converted to office space.

I'm always a little puzzled - does one just walk in like you would a normal business office or stop at the front door and knock? When needing a signature from them I've opted for knocking and it seems to work as they always come promptly and answer my inquiries.

Best to err on the side of caution, yes?

Keeping that in mind...

I go into a convenience store yesterday. I need the wash room and inquire if I might use it. The clerk smiles, nods & waves her hand toward the back of the store. The door to the men's and women's rooms are both open. I can see that each is a single seater with no 'stalls'. I enter the women's, close the door and lock it.

So far, so good. However, I have tried to lock doors before only to find that they spring open when the knob is turned from the outside. And frankly, there are few things as uncomfortable as having yer britches down around your ankles when a door pops open leaving you and your disheveled self on view to the world.

Never happened to you? Well, just wait. You live long enough and go to the bathroom often enough and it'll happen sooner or later, a time or two or three.

As I sit down I eye the lock with skepticism, but really, I have other matters to attend to ...

Not more than a minute later I hear footsteps and a body collides with the door as the knob is turned.

The lock holds and I let out the breath I was unaware I was holding and sang out...."occupied".

There are no retreating footsteps and not 10 seconds later another person approaches and vigorously works the door knob.

Again... "occupied!"

Okay ladies...Lets review the facts.

There is another bathroom directly across the hall (marked MENS) that has the door WIDE open. One can not miss it. There is one toilet. Chances are the room you are trying to enter is the same design. So if the door is closed there may be someone in there.

Next I'm sure woman #2 was not personally acquainted with woman #1. Unless you're someplace where there are a lot of creepers, if another woman is standing in front of the women's restroom and not going in? Once again, it could be a clue that it is in use. Trying to wrench the door off of its frame is just brutish.

Finally, I must say, in my defense, that I was tending to matters as quickly as possible. Bad form to camp in the water closet, eh old chap?

But what I really want to know is: what ever happened to the nicety of knocking before one tries to barge thru a closed door?
-

Ode To "Having A Moment"

This is me - heaving a BIG sigh....

My, my. Where to begin?

It's been a nice week. Really - enjoyed the kid people, ate tasty food, played...

But it can't all be fun and games.

Reality has to rear it's ugly head, the world intrudes and I find that I'm spending way too much time shaking my head over other people who have to stop, and have "a moment."

You know the guys I'm talking about. The ones who insist on pitching a fit when things don't go their way. They pout, shout, stomp and in general carry on over circumstances that just...are.

And really, it wouldn't be that big of a deal - if they'd do it on their own time, preferable some place far away from me but...

No. Instead of putting their shoulder to the wheel and getting "it" completed/finished, I look over to see them flailing their tiny fists and drumming their little feet on the floor. Production has stopped and while I'd love to be able to have super powers and do everything by myself...

 I'm left looking around, saying, "A little help here?"

Do you ever feel like you got dropped into a movie set of "Princessville"? The excuses run the gamut from "I might chip a nail/muss my hair' to "I'm special" or my personal favorite... "That's a job for the little people."

????

DO I LOOK LIKE A LITTLE PERSON TO YOU?

Think. Carefully. Before. You. Answer.

Yessssssss.

Now get off your butt and get back to work.

-

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Pooh Bah

Yeah!!!!!

#1 Daughter is home!

Monster & Blackie have both given her the official seal of approval. Chub Chub, the shy one, even deigned to walk into the same room with her. (He goes into hiding when there is anyone or anything new or unusual.)

Padwon says to scratch a little to the right.

The Youngest just jumped on her, or maybe she jumped on him. It was hard to tell thru the tangle of limbs. But they were making happy noises.

Farm Boy cranked the heat up about 20 degrees when he noticed she seemed a bit chilly...

Isn't it nice that some people can make everyone else happy just by being?

-

A Word To The Wise

A friend sent me this email...funny.  

Men take heed.

NINE "WORDS" WOMEN USE

(1) Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.

(2) Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means one-half hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.

(3) Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.

(4) Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't
Do It!

(5) Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to # 3 for the meaning of nothing.)

(6) That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a woman can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

(7) Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or faint.. Just say you're welcome. (This is true, unless she says 'Thanks a lot' - which is PURE sarcasm and she is not thanking you at all. DO NOT say 'you're welcome' -- that will bring on a 'whatever'.)

(8) Whatever: Is a woman's way of saying Screw YOU!

(9) Don't worry about it, I've got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has asked a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking, 'What's wrong?' For the woman's response, refer to # 3.

The email ended w/ the following notes:


* Send this to the men you know, to warn them about arguments they can avoid if they remember the terminology.

* Send this to all the women you know to give them a good laugh because they know it's true!!!

I'm thinking that pretty much covers it and I have to laugh because Farm Boy, bless his soul, is no closer to understanding this now than he was 28 years ago!
-

T-Shirt Time!

A Difference of Opinion

Will Rogers said: "The more you read and observe about this Politics thing, you got to admit that each party is worse than the other. The one that's out always looks the best."

I, for one, am glad/relieved this years election is past/done/gone. I can't say I look forward to 2012. Robocalls kept the phone ringing off the hook until the polls "closed" last Tuesday, even tho we vote with 'mail in ballets' in this area.
  
We, the Farm Boy & I, voted early. The college kids, (who still use our home address) were a different story. Unfortunately by the time the ballots were forwarded to them and got back to the county auditor we apparently remained on the list of those who hadn't voted yet and thus were deserving of encouraging calls reminding us to do our duty.

Arrggghhh - MAKE IT STOP!



Now there is an uncharitable type of GLEE from some conservatives for their candidates who have unseated liberals. While I'm quite conservative, I find myself wishing they'd quit doing their end zone celebration as I'm not expecting miracles from anyone, or any particular party. Resolving the nations economic and moral woes is not going to be a short term project. Finding compromises that everyone can live with will be difficult...Those who fail will be subjected to Will Rogers truth that: the ones who are out will always look the best. If the new congress does not succeed in righting the ship the pendulum will swing and the next crop of politicians will scramble madly to appease the American public.

And the cold, hard fact is: there just ain't no pleasing some people.

That said, I want to talk about one of my facebook friends. He is one of Farm Boys co-workers. He is a nice man. An educated man. A talented man.

What's not to like?

He's also extremely liberal. Usually not in an "in your face" kind of way but one does pick up the patronizing attitude that smacks of "if you were a little more intelligent you'd see things my way." And yes, indeed, that 'intelligent' word appears just often enough in his posts...

Anyway.

Because I'm  aware of my limited ability to 'control' or influence someone else's opinion or accountability I will never be counted as a rabid 'pro-lifer'. Not because I have any vestige of doubt that a child is a living entity from the moment of conception...if the fertilized cells are capable of dividing and growing, ummm, let me check the definition, yup! "It's" living.

Ah, but not viable some say. Can't survive outside the womb. Ergo, a "non-person."

Really?

A newborn kitten, eyes sealed shut, wet & scruffy, can drag itself to its mothers teats, nurse and grow.

A newborn human, eyes open and squalling, can not do the same. It is unable to move itself to its mother's side, latch on and nurse and sustain itself unless lifted, guided & held to its mother's breast.

Hmm, outside the womb and still can't survive without help.  I'm soooo not a fan of that 'viablity' thing.

Anyway, back to facebook.

This election season some pictures have surfaced from the pro-life camp in an effort to help persuade one to the selection of anti-abortion candidates. Some provide food for thought:

Others are graphic and will.break.your.heart. I'll not post these but they may be found here: http://www.priestsforlife.org/resources/abortionimages/index.htm

Again, these are GRAPHIC, be cautious about following this link.)

Back to our liberal friend. He has a son who is recently married. The new daughter-in-law and family appear to be conservative Catholics. One of her brother-in-laws, Andrew Ellis, has posted the above pictures.

Mr. Liberal can't help himself and has to comment. Tells them he doesn't agree but hopes 'they' can respect his opinion as well.

Another family member (apparently knowing Andrew) quickly chimes in to mediate, asking for respect for all opinions...

A switch was flipped. A young man who has the courage of his convictions takes a stand. Rage overwhelms political correctness and 'respect'. Following is Andrew Ellis' reply:

"To the general audience: So a woman in Iran is about to be brutally stoned to death because her husband's brother raped her and that makes her an adulteress. Am I supposed to stand by and say, "Well, these men are entitled to their opinion. ...I have a different view, but this isn't my business or my place to judge."

Sorry people. They are NOT "entitled" to that opinion. They sure as HELL aren't entitled to ACT on it. And don't ANYONE tell me it's unchristian or uncharitable of me to be incensed with rage and put up an unholy stink. To stand by in silence, or to turn away and pretend it's not happening, or to tell yourself it's not your business and take the easy way out of the situation - THAT is the unchristian and uncharitable thing.

Is ANYONE going to take a good hard look at some of those abhorrent images of dismembered human children and honestly tell me that mother, or that doctor, was "entitled to their opinion?" Go back a hundred years or so. Majority opinion held a consensus that black people weren't whole persons. Who is going to tell me that was just fine and dandy? That they were entitled to those opinions? That while you are "personally opposed" to it, it's not your place to say YOU'RE DEAD WRONG - and say it loudly, and publicly.

Who is going to tell me that if I were a German farmer, or banker, or student, that the young men and women of the Nazis were entitled to their opinions? Or that I would have been mean and unchristian and uncharitable to seek out the graphic evidence of what was going on, (note: he's speaking of concentration camps, Hitler's atrocities) publish it far and wide, and publicly descry it as the unholy travesty that it was? Or that I really ought to pipe down and learn to respect these people and their heinously misguided "opinions." As if it's not hard enough just to respect the life of the soldier executing a Jewish child.

In the name of sanity and reason, people, am I entitled to the opinion that any one of you, or a class of you, with eyes too far apart or missing an appendix or loosing your marbles due to old age - am I entitled to the opinion that you're just not enough of a person to matter anymore, or that you ever did, and that if I felt it would better suit my well-being or my child's well-being that you were terminated, that I ought to be able to just go ahead and pull your limbs off one by one? If you're going to reduce this down to a matter of opinion, THAT IS WHAT YOU'RE SAYING.

If you're going to tell me it's a matter of opinion whether or not an unborn child is a baby, that is what you're saying. Your damned opinions have no bearing whatsoever on whether a person is a person. And I have to say, it is utterly beyond my comprehension how any sane person can witness with their own two seeing eyes WHAT ABORTION IS and STILL DEFEND IT. That is not an opinion I respect, or ever will respect. No one is entitled to it any more than a man is entitled to the opinion that some attractive woman over there can be pinned down and violently raped. How much more obvious does it have to be?

LOOK AT THE DAMN PICTURES. People are constantly ripping on Catholic bishops in Germany for doing little or nothing for the Jewish people during the holocaust. Inaccurate though that is, do you think anyone in Germany believed what was happening before the photos started popping up? The rest of the world sat idle because they could not believe it was true - UNTIL THE IMAGES STARTED FLOWING.

Genocide after genocide in Africa has gotten little tidbit headlines and no one cares or becomes enraged until the photos and the videos come out FORCING PEOPLE TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE HUMANITY OF THE VICTIMS, THE INHUMANITY OF THE OPPRESSORS, AND THE REALITY OF WHAT PEOPLE ARE CAPABLE OF DOING TO THEIR FELLOW MAN. And you wanna know what else is VERY interesting? The men and women in Africa who butchered men, women, and children from other tribes have been interviewed - how did you come to be capable of this? And a consistent theme is that they are convinced by their leaders and other members of their group that THE OTHER SIDE AREN'T REALLY PEOPLE. They cease to recognize the humanity in the other group.

Isn't that interesting? Doesn't that sound strikingly similar to Nazi Germany. And strikingly similar to our own treatment of abortion? Excuse me for being frustrated. Excuse me for being angry. Excuse me for not letting this go. What does it take to help a person acknowledge the perfectly obvious?

What in God's name makes it so damnably difficult to simply look at a child, acknowledge that child, and acknowledge that it is an atrocity to kill that child?

What exactly does one stand to lose by being honest with oneself? What the hell is it? And whatever it is, is it worth sanctioning and defending the brutal murder of 53 million American children and 43% of the world population? Is it worth ripping the arms and legs off of ONE innocent little child?

Is your pride worth that? Is your esteem for "opinion" worth that? Is your political persuasion worth that? Is your job, or your house, or your car, worth that?

What in God's name is in a person's head, that they will not let go of, that induces them to persist in feeble attempts to justify the murder of innocent children, or to justify sanctioning it and protecting it, or to deny the humanity of another person and stand by idly while they are butchered?"

He finishes with:

"No one need comment on this. Go to the album Imagery as Political Commentary. Look at the photos. And you can do one of two things: be enraged and compelled to act, or lie to yourself. If you don't look at the photos, you're already lying to yourself.

I make no apologies for publishing these photos. I do not, and will not, respect an opinion that diminishes or denies the humanity and the dignity of my fellow man."
-

Complaint Line To The Right

Checked in with the family doctor. What a sweetie! Guy is turning into my own private cheering section.

Every time I see him I have NEVER lost enough weight for my own satisifaction. He on the other hand is jumping up and down. 10 pounds this month!!!!! Yeah!!!

Bless him. :)

Anyway, I go to check out and he comes out and says, "Oh, by the way - did you want a flu shot?"

Ummmm.

You know I've never had one before and every winter I get some type of cold, achy, sicky kind of thing going on...so, probably not a "bad" idea.

But it involves a needle.

Suck it up, right?

"Okay." I reluctantly say. I've already written the check for my co-pay so I'll have to write a new one to cover the cost of the shot. I ask the receptionist what my new total will be.

"Oh! Insurance pays for it. You don't owe anything extra!"

FREE! Better yet.

I barely turn around and the nurse gives me the injection where I stand.

She grins.

No changing my mind on that one!

The next day I'm pleased to note that the injection site is normal, no reaction. Wow, what was I fussing about?

48 hours later, I brush my shoulder.

Ouch.

Insert sad face here.

-

Standard Daylight Time

Switching back & forth from Daylight Savings Time to Standard Daylight Time has always been a bit like jet lag to me.  Some people try to "work" it, mess with their schedules, tell themselves it's really not time to get up, take extra naps etc.

I say, just go for it. Switch your clocks and go with the current time.

Padwon is NOT on board with this idea.

It's 5:30 a.m. I am up, the house lights are on and I'm preparing breakfast for the humans. Thru the darkness outside, the lights reflect off her white mane. I see the ghost of her outline.

Standing at the fence.

Staring at me.

In her world, breakfast. is. late.

I usually try to feed at 6 - 6:15 in the morning, and 6 at night. Someone doesn't cotton to the idea of the time change.

When I finally show up, I get the horsey head toss.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. So I give her some extra scratches to make up for her inconvenience. I must have been doing a really good job too because she actually STOPPED eating and lifted her head so I could get just the right spot under her neck.

That doesn't happen very often!

 She goes back to her hay and I turn to leave. As I start to close the dutch doors, she stops eating again and walks over and sticks her head over the bottom half of the door.

????

"See you at dinner I say as I stroke her nose..."

Then I grin and say, "Like, ummm, 5:30 tonight?" And I whisper "Pacific Standard Time?"

There is another horsey head toss. She turns and I get the cold butt. And as I shoved the bolt home on the top half of the door I swear I heard...

"Don't even think about it."

????
- 

Careful - I Think They Speak The Language!

Have you ever tried to find "catnip"? You know, just the dried herb? They have basil, oregano, thyme, etc. But catnip? Fresh catnip?

Not so much.

Sure there are catnip toys but like all herbs that sit and grow old and lose their savor, the toys are interesting but just not that interesting to cats.

So I decided to grow my own this summer.

Again.

I've not had a lot of luck with catnip plants as our local cat people turn into the mafia when they see them.

Must. Rub. It. Out!

Farm Boy is perplexed as to why I don't just plant miles of catnip for his beloved little felines. I end up waving my arms and growing a bit red in the face as I try to explain that they just kill them. Eat them, chew them up, lie on them and rub their tiny new green leaves into non-existence.

Wait. New plan. If I can't keep the cats away from the catnip, I'll keep the catnip away from the cats!

So Farm Boy gets out the welder and expanded metal plate and makes a made to order, STURDY, cat resistant cage.

I buy one lonely plant, select a nice sunny spot for it, plop the cage on top of it and wait.

One hour later I look out the window. Monster is stretched out on her side, stealthily digging thru the bark, trying to get under the edge of the cage to get at the catnip. She finally gives up and lays there staring at it.

Score one for Momma Newy!

The summer wears on. Farm Boy has doubts about the cage. "You know, the minute the leaves poke thru the openings the cats chew them off. I don't think it's going to make it..."

But what he doesn't understand is that the catnip is part of the mint family. It has an invasive growth pattern and once the root system is established it spreads fairly rapidly. As long as the cats can't get at the central part of the plant it will have enough leaves and roots to sustain itself. The cats can "self harvest" anything that grows outside the box and it will be a win/win situation. The plant will survive and the cats will have their catnip.

Finally, a week ago. The catnip has enuf growth that there is actually some that I can harvest. I carefully pick the extra leaves and bring them in the house to dry.

I hadn't counted on the smell driving the cats crazy. I make the mistake of rubbing a few leaves on areas that I wanted the cats lay on. (Like - not on my chair so I have a place to sit instead of it always being occupied by a cat!)

Chub Chub & Ack Ack had been asleep in the other room. They both come out, their noses twitching as they sniff and try to locate the source of the smell. They travel unerringly to the cat bed. Jump up, sniff, start eating the catnip and then, when it's gone, start pulling on the fabric with their teeth.

NO!!!

Do not eat the cat bed!

Jeez!

Note to self. Fresh catnip causes cats to o.d.

So I dry the rest of it.

This morning I'm bagging the dried pieces. I set a plate, with little pieces remaining, on the floor. Chub Chub sniffs and starts to lick the plate. Monster comes over, sniffs, shoves Chub Chub out of the way and lays down and begins to roll all over it.

"Monster!" I say, "Get out of there! It is uncouth to wallow in the plate!"

She stops and glares at me. There is a certain gleam in her eye. Then sits up abruptly, gives her coat a few quick licks, stalks away and sits with her back to me, ignoring me.

Hmmm....

Sprecken sie Deutsch?
-

What's Your Point

The tag line of a genealogist I once knew was:

What's the point? To get it done, or get it done right?

This was one heck of a researcher. The gal's stuff was solid gold. She wasn't in the habit of making or posting mistakes. I appreciated her, her talent and her generosity. She passed away a couple of years ago and I adopted her tag line in honor of her memory.

I've found it applies to many aspects of life.

Just the other day, a sweet lady I was working with was asking me some questions. She has the biggest heart but can sometimes be a little "fluffy." She also has a tendency to cut corners and when adding two plus two can come up with a bewildering variety of answers.

She was leaving a few important components out of an equation. I remember telling her: "verify, verify, verify!" Then I started, "What's the point..."

She heaved a sigh, interrupted me and finished with: "To get it done, or get it done right..."

Oh.

Apparently I've repeated myself.

A time, or two.
-

Chilling Out

Stayed up way. too. late. last nite.

Getting up at 5:15am to get The Youngest to school?

Shoot me now.

I am bushed. And man, it is cold in the house!!! The thermostat keeps resetting itself to the mid sixties...Brrrr!

I'm freezing and I could grab a sweater, ride my exercise bike, push a vacuum around or start baking but...nahhh. Sleep calls.

Wait, my bed is fixed. I don't want to mess it up.

But!

Ah, just as I thought. The Youngest did not make his bed before he went to school. (No surprise there.) I throw back the covers to crawl in.

Why that little stink!

This is where my blanket is! (We have a couple of lap blankets that we keep in the family room to snuggle under while we're watching TV and my favorite had disappeared. It's a soft, plush, beige throw that feels so good to curl up in. It tends to be a source of contention as everyone wants it...one blanket, three people = no bueno! Now the little twink has confiscated it...)

Fine for now. I'm going to sleep. The blanket will leave when I do.

I'm curled in a ball, waiting for the bedding to start retaining body heat.

This is taking forever.

There is a small bounce on the mattress. A kittah has come to snuggle beside me. Welcome friend!! You're warm.

I start to doze off. Another bounce on the mattress. Feline #2 picks his way across the bed and settles on my back.

Finally, I wake momentarily and feel a warm, heavy weight on the back of my knees.

Some people have 'dog days', others smoke 'camels', still other's have 'horses' in their engines.

Me?

I gots a 3 cat heater.

It's all good.

Domestic Goddess

I have been so domestic lately. End of October is always the time to clear the garden. Then one has to dice/chop/freeze/can the final gifts of the season.

Plus, friends like to cheerfully ditch their excess garden produce. They don't want it to go to waste. I appreciate that, but it makes for a late nite or two or... trying to get everything processed.

Still I have found that I'm excited by one thing above all else...Fuji Apples!

Folks started dropping apples by and when it looked like I was stockpiling for a national emergency I finally pulled my dehydrator out, borrowed another one from a friend and got to work.

Weather conditions this year have produced an apple that is intensely sweet and flavorful. Dried - these apples are insanely tasty!

Padwon gets the cores, peels and any rejects. The only down side to this is, as I take a small bowl to her morning & night, she enjoys it so much that she slobbers and slurps and ends up with apple juice/foam running down the sides of her mouth.

This is a problem you say?

Well, only because I groom her when she's eating and usually end up giving her a short belly scratch. She likes this a lot and has a tendency to run her muzzle thru my hair as I'm bent over. I guess it's her form of encouraging me? (more, more!) Kinda has the opposite effect tho when big, sticky, gooey, globs of used apple foam are being wiped all over my head.

Anyway...

Some of my friends who have orchards have noted that while the flavor of the apples this year is good, the overall yield has been down. Add to this the criteria for marketable sizing and it's not looking to be a very profitable year.

Americans are spoiled, aren't we? Look at our supermarkets. We demand perfection in color, size & taste. While some of us are willing to pay a premium for excellence, most of us want it, want it now, and want it for a reallllly good price...

As I prepare these wonderfully tasty Fuji's for the dryer  I find there is not a size or shape that I can not utilize. Lunch box to extra fancy? Bring 'em on!

Farm Boy once mentioned that one of our neighbors was compelled to tell him how impressed he was by me.

"And," I inquired - "Why is that?"

"Because," he said, "when he offered you apples, you didn't pick thru them, just took them as they came."

????

Really?

That's all it took to impress him?

Y'know, they all eats the same. Doesn't it strike anyone else as incredibly RUDE to sit and pick thru a box of free apples/produce and say, "I'll have this & this, oh - not that!"

???

Besides, if I can't use them, well...

I don't believe Padwon has ever met an apple she didn't like.

Losing My Mind

Arggh!!!

Okay, been one of those mornings. Playing Becky Ho-mecky, being all domesticated...

Got up early, fixed breakfast, fed the horse, showered, fixed the bed then took The Youngest to school. Stopped by the grocery store and came home. Then I started unloading the dishwasher, washing clothes, began cooking and preparing freezer lunches for Farm Boy to take to work, drying apples, taking out garbage, cleaning the frig and the cat box (not at the same time), scrubbing pots, and preparing a birthday box for the mail.

Then the timer went off. (I always set it to remind me to do/get back to, or finish "stuff".)

???

I walk to the microwave, stand in front of it and stare at the timer.

Gee, it sure would be nice if I could remember what I set that timer for.

Oh well.

Must be time to take a little break and go play on the computer. Let's see what's going on with my facebook friends. I'll have an early lunch and maybe somewhere in there I'll remember what that timer was for.

Great.

Is someone messing with me?

It just went off again.
-

Get Hot Much?

About a week ago an article ran in the paper. A young woman was directed by a judge to attend anger management classes. She arrived just as the instructor was about to play a video for the class.

Seems it wasn't to "taste."  She sat in the back of the room. As she watched she squirmed and fidgeted and made numerous derogatory comments. Finally, another girl in front of her (who had also been required to take the class), turned around and asked her to be quiet. To please listen and "give it a chance."

At which point our unhappy camper stood up and repeatedly stabbed the other girl numerous times causing her to be hospitalized.

Whoa....

Someone needs an anger management class.

Oh.

Wait.....

Critics

The galleries are full of critics. They play no ball, they fight no fights. They make no mistakes because they attempt nothing. Down in the arena are the doers. They make mistakes because they try many things. The man who makes no mistakes lacks boldness and the spirit of adventure. He is the one who never tries anything. His is the brake on the wheel of progress. And yet it cannot be truly said he makes no mistakes, because his biggest mistake is the very fact that he tries nothing, does nothing, except criticize those who do things.
Gen. David M. Shoup

Who's On First?

This is another of those posts that I stewed about for quite a while, wrote and finally erased.

You know, sometimes we're unfortunate spectators in events where we watch other people make momentous mistakes...

As fallible mortals we have a tendency to jump on the band wagon to judge, condemn and criticize.

That's not what we're supposed to do.

I'm trying to remember that.

T-Shirt Time!

Do you repeat everything you hear? "No, just everything I see!" So in the mode of 'Bumper Snickers' I will now dedicate some space to Terrific T-Shirts!

Seen in the Richland Farmer's Market on an 80 year old man...

Follow Your Dreams!
Except that one where you're naked in church...
-

Thanks - I Think

Just when you thought it was safe to go into the water woods...



In A Rush

#1 Daughter went school shopping with The Youngest a year ago. Picked out a nice wardrobe for the boy. But there was a pull over sweater that she insisted he get that he refused to wear.

"Hey, great looking sweater," I'd say.  "Why don't you wear it?"

I'd get 'the look.'

No?

Well, okay.

So this fall, he runs out of clothes one morning and the sweater is the only thing left to wear. He comes out of his room, wearing it. A grumpy look on his face. Goes off to school, comes home and the sweater heads to the wash.

Following week, with plenty of clothes in his dresser...he comes out with the hated sweater on, again.

I hide my smile.

Someone, at school, must have mentioned they liked it.

It has become a regular in the rotation now.

We've become a bit finicky about the hair also. The other guys are using pomade to style their hair. Must have some now.

We also have to have a trim every 4 weeks. (This from the kid we used to have to sit on to get his hair cut...)

Aftershave, body wash, deodorant, also on the must have list.

So this morning the boy is in a rush to leave. Mind you we get up @ 5:15am so we can get everyone showered, fed and done reading scriptures by 6:15.  His zero hour class starts at 6:50 and it's a half hour drive. The Youngest is the worst foot dragger of us all. It's usually a task to get him shoveled in the car, ready to go.

Today he's the first one out the door. At 6:16am he's calling the house, from the cell phone...from the car that is in the driveway. Hurry up Dad!

At 6:20 the phone rings again.

???

Okay guys, enuf w/the fun and games. It's too early to run for the phone.

But this time it's Farm Boy. And he's laughing. "Know why he was in such a rush," he asks? "He had to stop @ the corner store to get GUM! Oh wait, here he comes, gotta go!"

...

I wonder what her name is?
-

Gotta Get You A Edumacation

Long time ago and far away....

The Commander was, I believe, in 7th grade. Skinny little kid, big serious eyes.

We're going into town and he starts to repeat this joke he heard at school.  See mom...

There were these three ducks. They were in the pond in the park and a police man arrested them.

They went to court. The first one went before the judge. Judge says, "What's your name."

First duck says, "Duck."

Judge looks at him...then asks what he was doing to get arrested. Duck says he was just swimming around the pond blowing bubbles.

Judge is a little confused about why the duck is in his courtroom.

Judge then calls the second duck up and asks, "What's your name."

Second ducks says, "Duck Duck."

Judge quirks an eyebrow, then asks what he was doing to get arrested. 2nd duck replies that he too was just swimming around the pond, blowing bubbles.

???

So the judge calls the third and final duck up. Asks his name and says, "No wait, let me guess, you're Duck Duck Duck, right?"

The little duck blushes, looks at his tiny webbed feet and shyly says, "No...my name is Bubbles."

You know when you start to laugh, stifle it and just end up snorting? The young Commander was watching my face, checking my reaction and starts laughing. Pauses, then, in all seriousness, confesses, "Mom, I don't get it."

Ummm.

So we get to have a little discussion. Gotta love these 'teaching moments'.

A couple of years ago it was time for The Youngest to have his turn. Came home with questions after listening to his middle school classmates and their raging hormones. Again I got to have a little heart to heart. Bubbles rears his head... a lot of the jokes that you can't tell in church are down right useful as conversation starters and especially valuable as a sensitive, newly minted teenager finds out that his big brother, (who's famous for being cool and 'all that and a bag of chips') had the same questions - at the same time - at the same age.

Last nite, the Youngest, who is now a sophomore, comes home after taping a volleyball match. Someone got a hold of some helium filled balloons and a hysterical comedy routine with wacky voices followed. It didn't take long for the subject matter to go south and The Youngest noted he "learned" quite a bit...

I'm grateful for the school system, still -  this incident gives new meaning to continued education.

And apparently, Ol' Bubbles is lookin' pretty tame.
-

No Contest

Remember the song that goes...

Old men sit and talk about the weather. Old women sit and talk about old men.

Yes?

So - the other day, a gal, in exasperation, talks about some frustrating things her husband is doing and makes the comment... "I don't know which are worse, kids or men!"

I look at her, raise an eyebrow and say, "Really? Is there any contest? Kids grow up, move out and are gone..."

She says, "Yeah, huh."

Yeah.

Hands down. Men. Win.
-

How Do Ya Get Out Of This Chicken Outfit?

Worked in the yard this weekend. Got the loppers and saw out and ended up doing a version of I Fought The Law Shrub & The Shrub Won. Finally, scratched and bleeding, we ended up with enuf limbs and branches to make a run to the dump.

On our way we saw a cyclist. The gal, with her helmet, tiny little exercise top and spandex bicycle shorts, was at least 10 lbs. underweight and had some impressive toning going on as muscles rippled in her legs and arms.

"Who's that?" I asked The Youngest. We went by too fast for me to catch a glimpse of her face and I inquired if she might be one of his young friends.

"No," he snorted, " She's an old lady, she has chalkboard arms."

Huh?

"You know, the flab underneath her arms?"

...


What? Again with the arms?

I didn't catch "the flab underneath her arms." I, frankly, was too impressed with what I could see of the rest of her body.

You know us older types just can't catch a break from these punks. This woman obviously worked out diligently and it showed but the 15 year old boy immediately tagged her for not being perfect.

Later in the day I noted a heading, on the MSN home page, titled Essential Fall Fashion Picks for Women in Their 50's.

I'm not sure what I was expecting but it wasn't "perfect" 30 year old models, in tank tops/sleeveless blouses and above the knee pencil skirts.

The vast majority of my friends couldn't wear stuff like that and of the one's who could, most, wouldn't.

You know, I am of the generation who have finally seen women, their intellect and the contributions we can make to society become somewhat appreciated, or at least acknowledged. Still there are always reality checks. I caught the commentary on a TV show about an older man who was dating an attractive, much younger woman that went..."Well it works, she gets security, he gets - her."

Sigh.

I sometimes despair. Regardless of what we have to offer, as people/human beings, too often it seems a woman's ultimate worth is judged by flabby arms and whether we can still look good in a tight skirt.

Doesn't quite level the playing field, does it?
-

Goldilocks and Just Right

When you are in a car for 4-6 hours you want to be comfortable. One of the first considerations is temperature. Too hot? Run the air conditioner. Too cold? Try some heat.

But...

When you deliver mail  - one window always has to be open. So that heating/air conditioning thing?

Works - kinda.

For the last couple of weeks tho, the temperature outside has been just right to have both the windows open and I get to enjoy the crisp, fall air.

So...

I pull up to a mail box. It is just slightly past the house and across the street. I gather their mail and start to place it in the box when SOMEONE runs up, sticks their head in the other window and yells, "HIYA!!!!"

AAAAAHHH!

Bwahahahahahahahahahaha! He laughs hysterically and skitters around to the other side to grab his mail.

I'm still sputtering, but miraculously have not gone into cardiac arrest due to being scared out of my wits, and manage to grit out, "You. are. worse. than. your. brothers." (That, by the way, was not a compliment.)

The 50+ year old juvenile delinquent cheerfully assures me, "Oh, I'm the best of the three of us!!!"

He's still grinning maniacally and continues, "That was great! You usually don't leave that other window open!"

??????

There's a reason for that....

-

Opera Star

The pool is closed for the season.

Insert the sound of wailing...here.

So I have to find a new form of exercise. But face it. Exercise for the sake of exercise is not much fun. And all you gym freaks out there? Shut. Up.

The exercise bike sits in the corner. I'm sure it is beckoning to me. Tell me again why I talked Mom out of that hunk o' junk?
Sigh. Okay.

Everyone, climb aboard.

Wait. A little Aerosmith makes everything better. Climb off.

Climb on.

Whoops. Not loud enuf. Climb off.
Climb on.

Close my eyes and start singing along with Dream On.

Yeah. This is more like it...

Every time that I look in the mirror
All these lines on my face getting clearer
The past is gone
It went by, like dusk to dawn
Isn't that the way
Everybody's got their dues in life to pay...

As I gather speed, I throw my head back, pump those peddles and bellow sing:

Dream On Dream On Dream On...
Dream until your dream comes true..

Then the "Dream On" goes up and octave or two...

Hey I'm game! Everyone else is gone so I open my throat and try to hit the high note.

And poor Chub Chub, who has been hiding in the laundry room to escape the decibel level, careens thru the TV room, like a greased pig sliding thru a fence, trying to find a safer place to be.

Oh.

Well.

Not "everyone" is gone.

Do they have cat psychologists?
-

What If I Gave A Party And Nobody Came?

Not a problem last nite. Service project. Ward cannery session.

I'm well aware that I have "control issues." I like to have all my ducks in a row, things nicely planned out, all eventualities covered. However, I unwittingly went into that dark night unprepared. Thought I had it all together...

But I was WRONG.

Yes, you heard it here first ...

I was wrong.

It wasn't that we had too many people, or too much to do. Mostly it was just me overestimating my ability to tackle the amount of work that needed to be done in the given time frame.

So live and learn. Everyone was very patient. Very pleasant and very helpful. I gained some valuable insights. (Never too old to learn, yes?) And we got 'er done. The Youngest was absolutely magnificent. A few noble friends came to my rescue and Farm Boy was working at the other end of the operation pushing it along. His shirt was soaked with sweat before we were done and he made sure I knew that!

The time went fast. Still we were grateful when it was time to go home. As we left, the three of us looked at each other and definitely agreed it was a pizza nite. No one wanted to cook.

When we were comfortably flopped in our chairs, gnawing on our crusts, the dear husband managed to succinctly convey his thoughts on being recruited for the nite's endeavor... he looked at me and said in the nicest possible way:

"The next time you throw a party like this - feel free not to invite me."

-

Bumper Snicker

The key to any relationship is sincerity.

Once you can fake that, the rest is easy.

-

It's Not That Bad - Yet

Another senior moment. Out doing my visiting teaching. I have an easy route. Lovely women. I'm pretty sure they take better care of me than I do of them...

I was a bit distracted. As I pulled into the driveway I inadvertently picked up my cell phone instead of the garage door opener. They're about the same size, both dark colored. Didn't even look as my hand closed around it, pointed it at the door and tried to click the button to activate the door.

Hmmm, where's the button?

Door is not moving.

Duh.

So I switch devices and finally park in the garage, then head back out to get the mail. Go to the front door, purse, mail, Ensign & keys in hand. Casually scanning the letters. Shift the key ring and press the button on the flobber jobber to open the door and try to turn the door knob.

Sigh.

Of course the front door...to the house...is still locked, because the 'flobber jobber' unlocks the van doors.

But it's kinda funny.

Farm Boy calls shortly thereafter.  I laughingly start to relay my sad tale of a non-functioning brain and how, when I drove into the driveway, I couldn't get the "garage door opener" to work.

"Wanna, know why that is?" I ask.

"Ummm," he responds. "Wrong house?"
-

Make Lemonade?

When life hands you a lemon,

DEMAND ... 

Tequila & salt!

I snorted when I saw this and started laughing.

Totally understand the concept!
-



You've Got To Be Kidding

Talking to a member of our ward the other day. Chance comment was made and I laughed and said, "Well, you know me...you'd never get me shut up about that!"

The sweet woman looked surprised and commented, "Actually, no. You're usually pretty quite."

????


Bwahahahahahaha.

I must be doing better than I thought!

And Wendy, dear. SHUT UP. Let me revel in this moment. Just for...a while.
-