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.
-

Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty

WHOA!

We look at each other.

What happened?

Did something just happen?

What just happened?

Holy Kraut!

There is a moment of shocked silence.

Do you not listen?

When a group of people, who care about you, collectively tell you...

Do. Not. Go. There!

You hit the gas and go faster? "It" draws you on - like catnip?

The voice(s) of warning, lost in the noise of the crowd.

Wow. Gives new meaning to... "talkin' to myself."

What's to do?

We're all adults. We have our agency.

I sit in stunned silence. I understand my input is not needed wanted. Others may not give up that easily, but we both know they're just going to cause hard feelings if they continue to press their point...

Have you listened to the country song that goes: God is great, beer is good & people are crazy.

???

At this point I'm thinking that pretty much covers it.

I'll get the next round.
-

EEEK!

Growing up in and around the agricultural community one takes a certain amount of pride in being able to 'cowboy up.' Lots of things to do in the country that don't allow for you to spend time being all squeamish.

While I've never been adverse to trying to find someone else to reach into the birth canal of a laboring animal to try to turn and pull lambs, kids, piglets, calves and colts... it's a fact that if you have the smallest hands you're liable to be the one elected to give it a go.

Other things strike me as being quite humorous. I remember the time that we stopped in Washtucna for a bathroom break on our way to a state FFA convention in Pullman. The girls line wasn't moving. I went to the front of the line to inquire about the hold up. Seems there was a spider on the door frame and the young ladies could not be persuaded to walk past it.

???

I looked at the lead protester, turn around, whomped the spider with my open hand, wiped it off on the wall, smiled sweetly and then announced that as I had taken care of the problem that now made me first in line, thank you. I walked in and shut the door on her horrified face.

Last week as we threw off another load of hay, I noticed about 9 inches of bull snake hanging out the side of a bale of hay.

That got my attention.

Ya just know the two jokers who loaded the truck saw it...

But, although relatively fresh, he was good and dead, so we tossed the dangly parts and I'm sure we'll find the rest of him...later.

Squirmy, crawly things are a part of my life. I try not to get too excited about them. A little advance notice is always appreciated tho.

This morning I walked across the darkened TV room to open the curtains. My bare toes unexpectedly curled delicately around something small, soft and furry.

And I shrieked.

It was the cat's fake mouse toy.

Exhale.

Fortunately the men of the house were showering and getting ready for the day. They did not hear me.

The only thing a cool, courageous, embarrassed, type can do?

Walk away.

Just quickly, walk away.
-

Callate La Boca

Have I mentioned how much I like delivering certified letters?

Yeh, baby.  Good times.

So...drive up to this house. Certified in hand.  I recognize the return address. It's a collection agency. We know he's going to be happy to see this. Cough.

While I don't know him well we've been cordial in the past. He sees me pull up and comes out to meet me.

"Hola, como estas?" I say.

He pauses mid stride. A look of surprise, then outrage on his face. He thrusts himself through the window and yells, "SPEAK ENGLISH. You're in America you know!"

Really?

Is he serious?

(Actually, I'm glad he said something - I get confused easily and it puts my mind at ease to know that I'm still in the U.S.)

The middle aged, blue collar, biker type continued to sputter and make noise.

I listen with a raised eyebrow.

When he finally stopped I tell him that, on the paternal side of my family, the first person to step on the shores of America, arrived about 15 years after the Mayflower docked. My maternal grandmother, on the other hand, immigrated from Germany in the late 1920's but she immediately set about learning English and becoming an American citizen. So I'm good with the English thing and legal immigration. Still, all my kids speak Spanish and are or will be college graduates so that they will be highly employable and still able to communicate with the majority of the denizens of our great country...and make more money than the average field worker.

He grunts and then stares at the letter. "Who's it from?"

"Dunno, " I lie.  We both know what this is all about. He takes it and contemplates what he wants to do with it.

"Might as well." I say. "They'll just keep hounding you 'till you do something about it."

He shrugs, signs and whips out his cell phone. "You know what I do to all those Mex's who chatter at me?"

???

Boy, is my eyebrow getting a workout...

"I get their cell phone number and then text them this..."

He holds the phone up.The sun shines on the surface. I can't see. I reach my hand out for the phone. He jerks it away. What? I'm going to slam the van into reverse and take his precious phone?

"Give. It. To. Me." I wrest it away from him and tilt it so I can see:

Oh - absolutely! Let's ask someone for their cell phone number, walk away and send this.

Great idea.

He continues to rant. He does not differentiate between legal & illegal immigrants. Apparently he's an equal opportunity hater.

What to do with someone like this?

I just shake my head, laugh, hand him his phone back, take my pen & receipt for the certified, (for the unpaid bills he has because all the Mexicans are taking the jobs that he's too lazy to apply for) wave and leave.

Because unlike him...

I have better things to do with my time.

Ciao.
-

Good News!

The newspaper this morning announced that it turns out the recession ended more than a year ago in June of 2009. Sure glad they told me...as I had been unaware of that.

Obama, ever the hopeful and bright star, has made a point of noting small signs of progress in the economy. Some Democrats have urged him to stop boasting about any progress at all, for fear that it irks people who feel things aren't getting better and MAKES POLITICIANS SEEM OUT OF TOUCH.
-

Kinda Looks Like Ebola

Has anyone ever shown you how to slice a banana without peeling it first?

You take a needle, insert it through the skin then (without making the hole in the skin any larger) you pull/push the needle through the banana flesh. Repeat for as many slices as you'd like, peel the banana and watch the sliced sections fall apart.

I got a load of grass hay for Padwon last Friday. Farm Boy was busy so I stacked it by myself. Afterward I noticed a bunch of red, blood blister-like marks on my forearms. They ranged in size from pin pricks to pencil eraser sized marks.

I've bucked a lot of hay in my time and this was a first. Far as I can tell there were small grass stems or stickers in the hay that pierced the skin and went deep enough to cut the tissue and allowed it to bleed under the skin. Now my arms look kinda like big, spotted advertisements for some exotic disease.

Should be a real conversation piece.

But, it is what it is and I'll just deal with it - as long as the skin doesn't peel back while I get to watch the sliced sections fall apart...
-

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Gotta hate it when someone says..."don't tell anyone but..."

Secrets, confidences, gossip. Call it what you will (depending on the individual situation), there is a reason for the saying loose lips sink ships. Once information is out it is hard, if not impossible to call it back.

Someone is going thru a difficult time. It's hard to deal with though. Sometimes we feel so alone. We need to talk to others not only to connect but get feedback. But the minute you talk the gate is open, if only a crack. How trustworthy is your friend? Are you dumping your burdens on them? Will they think less of you? Can you share the pain? Can they bear the pain? Are they merely attracted to the salacious details or they there because they want to provide help and comfort? Or any combination of the above?

And what's the shelf life of this information. Days, months, years? Is what you share now going to come back and bite you 20 years down the road?

Maybe it's just better to say nothing. Certainly less embarrassing.

And much, much more alone.

Slowly, but surely, others pick up on the vibe. They don't know what exactly, but something is wrong. They hunt around the edges. Some are more forth right than others. The boldest simply state, "I want to know." These are easier to brush off than the ones who pause thoughtfully then quietly ask, "what's going on with ****?  Is everything okay?"

There is a deer in the headlight moment. Like most things in life, ultimately it has a tendency to be a yes or no kind of question. You can't truthfully answer yes, and there is a small space in the conversaton as you try to figure out how to avoid lying and saying no. It is just a fraction of a second before you spit out a prearranged party line.

Too late.

They look at you, trying to gage your expression, and you tell yourself - I shut up now. The intuitive ones let you off the hook with, "It's none of my business, huh?"

You know, you can spend an uncomfortable amount of time just looking at another person, the silence a great void between you, before both turn to talk about ... the weather.

Knowing that the gate just opened a little wider.
-

One Ringy Dingy...

Telephone is ringing.

Caller ID doesn't register a number. Not unusual for the phone in the office. It has issues.

I pick it up and get a recorded message telling me that this is my final opportunity to have my credit card interest rates reduced.

Really?

Sounds like the same outfit that has called here a time or two or three hundred. And you know how you feel when you drop whatever you're doing, dash for the phone to answer it before voice mail picks it up only to find it's a telemarketer?

So I listen to their message and punch 9 to talk to a real person. Real person comes on the line and asks if I'd like to talk about interest rate reductions.

"Actually," I say, "I've received calls from your company before.  Even though the recordings mention each time that this is my last chance to take advantage of this offer and I've requested to be taken off of your calling list before, I'm still hearing from you. Could we do something about that?"

CLICK.

...

Apparently not.
-

I'm Flying Sooo High When I'm...Driving?

There is this awesome section of road that winds down a hill in Kennewick on 27th Avenue. Steep climb, nice, sharp curves. It would be great for a road rally. I understand that.

The Youngest however hasn't picked up on the fact that rally driving is not necessarily about speed as much as it is about skill. So we're going along this section of road and he says, "I'd love to drive this, do The Mario Andretti, take these corners at about 50 miles an hour..."

???

I raise an eyebrow and fire back with, "You mean you'd be doing The Wright Brothers."

"Huh?"

I glance meaningfully at the abrupt drop off on the other side of the road, loosen a hand from the steering wheel and make a gliding airplane motion with it.



"Oh ... Ha. Ha. Ha. You're so funny," he says.

"Yes, I am quite the wit," I reply dryly, as we pass the road sign that says:

DOL Games

It didn't take long. The Youngest placed his wallet, with his driver's permit, on the roof of the car while he shuffled the keys and other items in his hands. Got in, started the rig and drove off. With his wallet still on the roof.

It's somewhere...between Mountain Home, Idaho and Utah.

So we need to go back to the DOL and have the permit replaced. But school has started, the kid is busy, I'm working. Trying to get there ... before they close? Somewhat of a challenge.

And.

The Department of Licensing has been having 'furlough' days to save money. Which means fewer days that they're open to provide service to the local citizenry. Which also means the lines are getting longer, the people crankier leaving the staff tired and less customer service orientated.

Boy, wasn't that a polite way to put that????

Timing... the best we could do is to get there at 3:30pm. They close at 5:00pm. We're handed ticket #270. They are now serving #189. The Youngest and I look at each other. This can't be good. If 5 o'clock comes and they're only at #250 they're just going to send us home, aren't they?

We wait. They are actually moving right along (for a government office) We check our watches. I think we're going to make it! Then a woman sits beside us. She fidgets. Checks her watch, looks over her shoulder.

Now serving number 252.

She gets up. Goes to the counter and I hear her explaining that her son will be right there. Might she just step aside and let the next person go until he arrives? The DOL employee looks at her and says with a tight little smile, "Sure. You can step aside... but if you miss your turn you'll have to get a new number and start allll over."

Bless his soul - the place is absolutely packed. Getting a new number will work well - NOT.

I step to the counter and as we converse her son runs in. I return to my seat.

The Youngest asks, "What was that all about?"

"Oh," I said, "I just offered to trade numbers with her to give her son some more time, but he's here. It's fine."

My intent was good - just doing my "deed for the day." And the look on the DOL officer's face as his plans to be a donkey where thwarted? 

Icing on the cake.
-

Senior Moment

Farm Boy brought home a cuckoo clock. He's wanted one for years and one of his co-worker's new hobbies is...restoring old cuckoo clocks. So now we have one. It's charming. Really. It is. But the dang thing is one of those that has to be 'rewound', every day. We haven't gotten into the habit of winding it so sometimes it stops and has to be reset. This does not involve just putting the hands at the correct time and restarting it...

Oh no.

That would be too easy.

You see, it chimes once on the half hour, then the cuckoo comes out at the top of the hour and little people dance while a sweet, peppy little melody plays. If it stopped at 4 o'clock and it's now 8 o'clock? Well, you get to listen to it chime, cuckoo and dance as you slowly move the minute hand, hour by hour, to catch back up to where it's supposed to be.

Doesn't take too long really. But that repetition thing....

So this morning the cuckoo has run out of steam. Again. I go to reset it and as the little people come out to dance, again & again & again... my head starts flopping, side to side;  each hand is raised with a forefinger pointed upward (ala John Travolta) jabbing rhythmically toward the ceiling; and the old backside is wagging back and forth in time to the music.

You got a visual on this?

Mmm - can't be good...

When I realize what I'm doing I stop and just bust a gut laughing.

And check over my should to be sure that no one, no one was here to see that.
-

Nightmare

It's never a good way to start the day when you wake up screaming, NOOOOOOO....

Farwa.

My beautiful boy. Sweet little Arab gelding we had for years. Stories - good stories, too many to repeat here. But just a dandy little horse. He died when #1 Daughter was in high school. Yes, he was 26 years old, but no it wasn't time.

I will forever have a picture of him running, tail flagging in the air, dancing around water holes, eating ice cream. He was a pet. He taught my daughter how to ride, he took care of her. He had more try in that little 14H body than most horses twice his size had.

So the dream...and yes, it was in color. :(

I was driving a pickup, pulling a horse trailer. One of those things where you keep driving and driving and... 

Made a wrong turn and ended up bottoming out over a ditch. Didn't seem to hurt anything, kept going and finally stopped at a cafe. Went inside, then looked out the window and the pickup and trailer were engulfed in fire. Apparently when I'd hit the ditch I'd damaged the underside. I ran outside to try to put it out but was overwhelmed by the flames. Up to this point I didn't know who/what, if anything was in the trailer. I managed to look inside and there was Farwa.

 I couldn't get the door open.

And I got to stand there and watch him die all over again.

I have no idea what Freud would say about all that. Yes, it was only a "dream."  But it was enough pain to last...for a while.
-

Mirror, Mirror, On The Wall

Time marches on.

I remember being 16 and thinking the 30 year old couple I babysat for were A.N.C.I.E.N.T.

Now, well, 30 somethings are just pups.

I was somewhat taken aback however when #1 Daughter came home in her freshman year and informed me that she just wasn't going to be able to go to Relief Society with me, 'cause well, we were boring. And besides - we had Relief Society arms.

???

"You know, when whoever's conducting or teaching, they raise their arms and they have all that saggy skin underneath their upper arms?"

"Oh."

Well, yes indeed, I could see where that would be a major OBSTACLE to your spiritual development.
And although I snickered then, unfortunately, that thought has stuck with me.

Now I think most of us like clothing that fits, is comfortable and looks nice. And we see many mature women wearing tank tops/cap sleeves in public. But it is a fact, with the exception of a few, very well toned individuals, that plunging necklines and bared arms just aren't as attractive as they were when we were 20 or 30 years younger.

I usually try to keep the pudge covered up...but when the weather got hot this summer and I needed some new tops the light weight fabrics I sought all came with short short sleeves. I mulled the problem for a moment and threw caution to the wind. I was hot and I just didn't care what anyone else thought!

Then this morning. I've just showered and dressed. I raise my arms to comb my hair...

You how you get all soft and squishy when you lose weight?

Bwahaha!

But I'm not owning that R.S. arm thing. At this rate, if I keep going, I'll be able to fly soon! I'm dubbing these "my angels wings."

Either that or a twin engine broom!
-

Bumper Snicker

I wouldn't be such as smart*ss....

                              if

You weren't such a dumb*ss.
-

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Off To Work...

One drawback to being employed by the USPS, especially as a mail carrier, is that you're a little further into people's business than you'd usually like to be. Can't help it. Have to sort mail to get it to the right spot and certain things JUMP out at you. Complications are added when you're a mail carrier in your own community...has a tendency to be just more information than you need.

So.

Today.

Have a Restricted Certified for a guy who I know is recently divorced.

From the Department of Social & Health Services.

He has kids - son is the same age as my youngest. They went to school together. So, ummm, child support right? Probably. Well, he's unhappy w/the ex, everyone is fussing and he gets this letter.

I hand it to him. Ask him to sign and print on the back to acknowledge receipt. He glares at me. Grabs the pen I offer and makes two quick X's.

His mark?

Sigh. Restricted delivery means it can go only to the person it is addressed to. And of course we have to be able to identify that by the signature. He's not illiterate. I gently repeat myself, saying I need him to sign and print his name...

"And if I refuse?" He belligerently asks.

"You can do that. As a matter of fact you may refuse to accept the letter," I say pleasantly.

"Fine." He says and thrusts it back at me. He has a smug look of satisfaction on his face.

You know, it's no skin off my back, other than wasting my time with his pointless tantrum. Indeed, he just demonstrated one of the great human failings - that being the attitude of:  Why do today that which you can put off until tomorrow.

So I take the letter, my pen and leave.

He, on the other hand, has just set into motion the machine. They'll keep after him until they get him. The nagging, phone calls, letters, summons etc. just won't stop until he deals with it. It's not like he's leaving the country. He has a house, a new girlfriend...really doesn't appear to be going anywhere soon and they, (his ex-wife, attorneys AND the DSHS) know where he lives.

The only thing he's accomplished with this childish snit is to lengthen the resolution process. And while he's taking a swing at (once again) the ex, the attorneys...the only ones he really hurts are the kids who need the child support money and he likes them - I think.

What a guy. So proud to have him in our community.

Jackass.
-

I Spy With My Little Eye...

Remember the game you played when you were little? Well, in our new information age there are all kinds of opportunities to keep track of your friends, relatives & neighbors. Not the least being Internet blogs and social pages. With a few simple clicks and links you can network your way thru the Internet and keep up with the doings of those people you care about but the down side is you also get to learn a lot more about "the mutual acquaintances" than you bargained for.

I had to laugh when one little gal threw a "hail Mary" recently to let us know she was aware other people read her blog.

Really?

Remember - it is a public blog, she hasn't restricted access to it. Plus her blog is just a means to an end for me. However, in the process of seeing what is going on in and around my child's life, I was interested to note that that this girl's future mother-in-law had also stopped by to read it so she could learn more about the young woman her son was dating. The girl was incredibly rude about being STALKED ?? by the guy's mom. (Serious error on the girl's part) Trying to embarrass and hurt someone is never a good start to a relationship... And as a mother, I totally understand being concerned about your children.  Kids are busy and don't always take the time to fill us in on their lives, plus there is all the stuff they think we're better off not knowing! So I'm sure the woman's intent in this case was friendly, benign really. I don't think she deserved the static she got from the other end.

But, I digress.

I'm still chuckling over the fact that the kid thinks she has reached blogger fame.

Oh.

Okay.
-

Who's There?

There is a thumping/knocking? on the front door. I open it and almost immediately trip over a wiggling, mass of brown fur.

Then, with the speed of a bullet, the puppy lunges inside... She's in the cat's territory now. :(

"Noooo! Come back!"

She careens back thru the doorway and into my knees.

"Who's dog is this?!! She just about started WWIII in the house!"

???

I walk to the driveway with the enthusiastic ball of energy threading her way thru my legs. And at the same time I hear: the neighbor calling her, Farm Boy yelling, "It belongs across the street," and a car roaring down the road.

Vance, our neighbor, sees her at the same time he hears the car, and takes off at a dead run toward us, straight into the path of the car.

"I've got her, I've got her!" I yell, as I reach down, tug on her collar, and frantically motion him back out of the road and away from the car.

She is totally cowed by the noise and commotion. Vance's face is a thunderstorm. She's just a pup, and doesn't understand that HIS dogs are always extremely well behaved. They do not leave the yard without permission.

I start talking fast. "She's fine, I've got her. So cute. What a nice looking little chocolate!" And I'm not letting go until he takes a breath and the glare fades from his eyes...

He composes himself, leans down and picks her up, cradling her in his arms. Tells me he turned, just for a moment, and she slipped away.

Oh, I know. She's fast, that one. And cuter than a button.

Goodness.

It all only took  - a minute or two, but it was quite the introduction!
-

Smile - You're on Candid Camera!

Woof!

Ever had one of those days, weeks, (months) when every time you turn around someone is doing something that makes you stop and go "what the...??"

The deal usually goes like this - if one person is irritating you it might be him/her. If everyone is irritating you...then the trouble maker is probably you, and YOU need an attitude adjustment. Time to lighten up, get happy and smile, not only for your own mental health but also - you never know who's watching. Kinda like all those reality TV shows where the camera man gets one of the contestants/participants off by themselves and then they just start to unload. It is after all, just them, the camera & however many million people who are going to be watching the show! I try not to watch too often. I end up going "helloooo...you didn't really just say that on national TV, right?" Then I have to leave because I just can't stand it.



Anyway, I've been a little snarky lately.

Surprise!

Oh, not surprised eh? Fine. But I come by it honestly. A while back, #1 Daughter had made a comment about going to dinner with her grandmother. I remember the occasion.  Mother decided to talk/gossip about her ex-DIL, Misty. She was in rare form and it quickly turned into a public flogging. That polite, conversational tone one usually reserves for restaurants was nowhere to be found. There was a shocked silence from the tables around ours and the area began to clear - people quickly finished their meals and left. Valiant efforts where made to distract and redirect Mom but she was having none of it. She had an axe to grind and appeared to be only too happy to have an audience with which to do it....

One can only take just so much public humiliation before it almost starts to become humorous and #1 Daughter noted: ...[she] exhausted us with her usual negative, backstabbing attitude...

Bwahaha.

Well, yes. Yes, she did. And I understand that it's just as easy to view the glass as half empty as it is to view it as half full. Still we get to decide how we're going to be. I'm blessed to know, and have a great respect for people like Nancy Moore. She was a missionary who was assigned to our ward a year or two ago. She was such a warm, kind, generous person. I'd love to be like her when I grow up. But I'm also loathe to give up my perverted sense of humor and the two don't mix. I was mentioning to another friend how much I admired this woman, to which that friend (who is on my top 40 list of good people) fired back, "Yeah, but, don't you think she's almost too good to be true?"

Gasp!

DO NOT topple my idol off of her pedestal! I have to know that people like her exist. We have way too many negatives in the world for every one of Nancy's positives.  I refuse to believe, and more accurately, really don't want to know, that she might not be a perfect person all the time. I'm going to stick w/ my opinion that she's pretty darn close to the real deal.

So, to the guy I ran into tonight who was sure he was going to tell me what to think and how to think it???? Well, I'm not Nancy. But, just for you, tonight I'll refrain from blogging about what a donkey you are. Besides guy...you're pretty consistent. There will be other opportunities... Today I'll just shake my head at you and any other people who had issues and say "whatever..." I may still poke on the ones who are being really ridiculous but I'll try to leave the true discontent and venom somewhere else.
-

Ummm, Excuse Me?

Overheard:

Two young women who have not seen each other for a while...

The first, Penny, smiles, says hello, good to see you and turns to introduce her companion to this friend.

The friend, Laura, acknowledges briefly and states baldly, "I don't have time for you right now."

????

Oh.

Well.....ok then. (Talk about a conversation killer!)

Yes, obviously she had just been on her way out - to work, shop, visit the boyfriend... But no one was asking for an eternal commitment. Just common courtesy.

Now the bystander's couldn't help but think about what a different impression would have been made if our abrupt young woman had chosen to respond with something like this:

Hey, Hi! Great to see you too! Welcome back! You know, I was just on my way out, but I'd love to hear all about your summer. Would you have time for me to stop by later? Yes? I look forward to it! Okay - see you then. :)

You know, we all understand busy. But in-your-face rude? Not so much.

Let it go, right?

But...

Same girl. A little later - like, that night. It seems Laura had borrowed a few things while Penny was gone. It was time to give them back, but apparently that was not convenient.

Penny, the owner, had to insist that they be returned. Laura (who had let herself into Penny's apartment,  uninvited, when no one else was there, and was found canoodling on the sofa with her boyfriend,) had the gall  to cattily remark to the guy, loudly enough so Penny could hear as she walked into the other room, how selfish Penny was to not let her continue to use the items. (That she had been able to use free of charge.  That didn't belong to her. That she hadn't paid for...)

???

Oh dear.

Hearing this, I cringed, but obviously this is just business as usual for this little gal. When one is that self absorbed it's a gift that just keeps giving, eh?

The list of faux pas goes on and really doesn't bear repeating. Still I think there is an old saying about, "With friends like that, who needs enemies?"
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That Diet Thing

My momma told me there 'ud be days...

So we were back in Utah last week. Picked up the #1 Daughter in the Salt Lake Airport, all safe and sound from her journeys in Uganda. Wheeeeee!!!!! Happy Day. Then set to work getting her set up for the fall semester at school. Hauled her stuff out of storage, shopped for food & school stuff, ran around trying to find/give back keys, paid rent....

Friend Chris goes on vacation to the Oregon Coast and relaxes, or cruises to Alaska. Our vacation time is spent packing, weeding, cleaning & spending money on supplies for the kids. One of these days we're actually going to come home relaxed & tanned with souvenirs in hand, but...just. not. right. now.

Meanwhile we find ourselves with some dead time in the evenings. There are promises of walks, games, scenic drives...But the guys seem to congregate around the TV - with snacks. I buy groceries for The Commander - don't want to eat him out of house and home. Farm Boy is into the DIL's chocolate ice cream so while I'm in the store I look for something else for him to munch on and grab some Oreos. That will keep him busy for a while and me, the diet queen, well, I'll just try to ignore the fact that they're in the house.

Finally. Last night there. Our promised tour of the local historic homes and game nite turns into another marathon television session.

"Look," they say. "Educational TV, come watch with us!"

Really? Again? Ummm, no.

I'm getting a little frustrated with this bunch of dead beats.

The Oreo package is on the table.

What does one do when frustrated?

Yup, I'm having me one! The Youngest has just taken a bowl full of cookies out of the package. It is still on the table. (We throw the package away when it's empty, right?) I reach into the package. Once again, all gone - except one sad little cookie with the double stuffing eaten out of it.

Okay, that does it! You little piggy pies, stuff your faces and sit and rot in front of the TV. I'm out of here. I drop the daughter off at her apartment. It's getting dark but I bet the lights of the city when viewed from the mountain are lovely. I make a quick stop at the convenience store for a drink. And there on the counter, in an enticing display, are 3 Musketeer candy bars...

So me, my diet drink, my newly lost 35 pounds & the 3 Musketeer's share the beauty of the lights on the mountain - together.

Damn those Oreos!
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Yesterday...When I Was Young

Ah yesterday.

Remember when the gas station attendant used to step right up to your car when you pulled into the service station? He was bright eyed & polite in his freshly ironed & creased grey work pants. Fill 'er up, Ma'am? Check the oil Ma'am? Let me get those windows for you Ma'am...

Then we had the option of self-service (for a few cents less per gallon) or full-service.

Now it's only self service and check your own dang oil, thank you.

But not in Oregon.

State law dictates that an attendant must pump the fuel into your vehicle.

So heading back to our home state of Washington we pull off the highway in LaGrande, Oregon. Went to the LaGrande Eat-N-Run, 2310 Island Ave at 6:23 pm, Monday 8/30/2010 . We have been on the road for 8 hours and we really need to use the restroom.

We pull up to the pump. And wait. No attendant.

Hmmm.

Farm Boy looks at me. I look at him. While there are several sets of pumps there are no other cars. "Well, maybe there's no one on duty?"

He asks, "Do we do it ourselves?" 

Ummm, "I guess."

But as soon as he has swipes the credit card and started to fill...our attendant finally shows up (maybe HE was in the bathroom?)

He's a young, blond, well built boy who haughtily informs us, "it's illegal to pump your own gas."

"Oh, sorry," Farm Boy says as he steps aside.

I tell him to go find the restroom. I'll stay with the vehicle. Then our attendant informs me, again, it's illegal to pump our own gas.

???

Yes, dear. I heard you the first time.

He grabs the squeegee and cleans the front window. Walks around to the rear window, makes a face, passes by it and throws the squeegee back into the water bucket.

Finishes fueling, hands me the receipt and tells me, for the third time, it's illegal to pump our own gas.

Really? Now please keep in mind, that Farm Boy apologized the first time and let the attendant handle the rest of it. I nodded and acknowledged the second time but I'm sure I raised an eyebrow the 3rd time. I don't know, perhaps he enters a code when he starts filling so he gets credit for doing it and that's why he's so annoyed? Doesn't really matter - he is way into overkill with the chastisement thing and he should stop. But I really need to use the facilities so I'm not going to mess with Boy Wonder. I move the van and go inside.

There is a Subway connected to the service station. While we order sandwiches Boy Wonder comes out from a back room, walks by and scowls at us.

We exit the building only to find our crabby little boy in conversation with a female employee. They break off talking as we come out and he gives us "the look" as we walk by.

WOW.

Apparently the days when businesses send their employees running to serve you are gone. Along with being polite or even being respectful to one's elders.

And because the young man's reaction was so extreme I worried that he might be fined because we started to fuel. So I made a call to the LaGrande Police. They confirmed there is a law but as we turned the hose over to him once he arrived - no big deal. The officer chuckled and said, "I think he overreacted a bit."

You think?

I regret spending my $75 there.

The owner's may want to keep in mind that when they hire rude little punks we're not obligated to patronize their establishment. It won't happen again and when you're passing thru LaGrande I'd appreciate it if you didn't stop there either.
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