Thought Association

When I get up, hit the shower and start my day it's never a big deal.

But, if I get up, go outside to work, in the yard or with animals, and wait to shower (to wash off  "the great stinky outdoors") it's always a pain in the neck. I've already gotten dressed once, now I have to undress, get wet and put on a bra - AGAIN! I just want to be three years old, plant my feet and say no! I'd be happy to sit around in a mu mu all day and if it weren't for sweat & fresh eau d'horse I'd surely do it!

Why is it even an issue? Just hop in the shower and go, right?  I have no idea. Just is. Which reminds me of some little people I used to know. Each of my three darlings had their quirks. The Commander wouldn't eat vegetables for the life of him, #1 Daughter didn't like fruit and....oh, I could fill the page with comments about french fries, pink, sitting under the table, forts, imaginary civilizations...

At the moment tho, my reluctance to get into the shower and get dressed, so I can do something with the rest of my day, just reminded me of a certain boy and his wardrobe. He'd get used to wearing long pants during the winter and come spring I just about had to duct tape him to the wall to get shorts on him so he wouldn't die of heat stroke. In the fall we'd do it in reverse. Couldn't get him out of his shorts and into long pants so he wouldn't freeze. Being our first child, the Commander was perhaps a bit indulged. Fortunately his sister came along. He had to learn to share and has grown up to be a responsible, intelligent, social adult. But I had to run pay attention to keep up with him.

Now we've have the good news that he and the DIL are expecting. TWINS! I'm so happy for them. Children add a joy, depth & dimension to your life that you never knew you were missing until you have them. And twins? Well, double the pleasure or double the trouble! I'm laughing because if they have two with the DIL's personality/spirit it will be smooth sailing all the way. If they have one for her and one for him, things might get a little interesting. But if they end up with two Little Commander's...well the thought just kinda makes me grin. All I can say is good luck getting those kids out of shorts when it's 20 degrees outside. And I probably should warn them, to never, EVER, get those children trains, let them see a train, let them hear a train.....bwahaha, long story. Just take my word for it! ;)

Procrastinator's Hell

Yesterday I waited until the evening to clean the corral. Wanted it to be cooler, 'cause scooping poop is hard work! I was just about to go find my shovel when Farm Boy comes out and says "Your show is on!"

"Eh. I've got work to do."

"Oh come on. It's the season finale."

"Nah, I need to get this done."

"Please...."

And really, when faced with 1)missing one of the only TV programs you watch or  2)hauling horse manure....

I went inside.

This morning the alarm goes off. I push the snooze button. Alarm is still going.

???

This time I punch the snooze button. Alarm is STILL going.

I pick up the clock, turn the alarm off and there. is. still. noise...

Sigh. Cell phone alarm.

While yesterday was warmish, this morning is overcast. The clouds start moving in. The wind picks up. Oh oh. I'd best get moving.

Alas, by the time I made it to the corral the first drops of rain were falling. Dust was whirling around and it soon began to pour in dead earnest.

It only took about 45 minutes but by the time I was through I was soaked to the bone, covered in crap, with mud up to my knees.

The plan was to go in the back door, and in deference to the neighbors sensibilities I refrained from shedding my clothes on the deck.

GOOD THING!

The door was locked. I tried the next door...of course I'm locked out of the house.

Finally got into the garage once I got the *&!$# garage door opener to work. By now things are getting desperate because I really have to use the bathroom. Just as I punch the button to shut the garage door the cat dashes in thru the pelting rain and makes the door return to the open position. Rain is pouring in the garage and I have to try again & wait until it closes all the way this time.

Step inside, shed everything and streak nekked thru the house. (Y'know the one with all the curtains open.)

Perfect.

But that's what I get for putting stuff off.

I'm pretty sure catching the last show of the season wasn't quite worth it.

Aced Out

Ours is a three bedroom house. With only The Youngest left at home we finally had a spare room...Farm Boy has never slept well. He snores, talks in his sleep, grinds his teeth, gets up several times during the night, likes to read himself to sleep and is prone to turning on the light to peruse his favorite novel (in the middle of the night,) thrashes violently at times, and LOVES heat. The more blankets the better until he is literally drenched with sweat. Then he throws off the covers, gets cold and moves his clammy body back to snuggle with mine to get warm again.

Woof.

Needless to say I've been sleep deprived for almost 30 years.

An empty bedroom solved that problem.

Bliss.

Now, The Youngest has a friend in need of a place to stay for a couple of weeks. Nice kid. No problem, but no one wants to give up their bed so Kiddo ends up with the twin size air mattress and bunks down on the floor in the office.

Bedtime is early. Boys have to get up starting at 5:15 to shower, eat, read scriptures, and travel to zero hour & seminary classes. Farm Boy is busy and running between TV room & office. I need him to settle down so kids can settle down.

Not happening.

So I tell The Youngest to take my bed and have Kiddo sleep on floor in there. Only place left in house where light, noise & confusion don't reign.

Then Farm Boy decides he's done.

???

So I yell down the hall to the Youngest, "Never mind, your dad is going to bed." The Youngest and Kiddo have a quick conference.

Kiddo comes out and grabs the air mattress, I assume, to put on the floor in the office.

I turn around and see Kiddo, with that big mattress tucked under his arm, and he goes sprinting thru the living room, down the hall into my bedroom like a surfer headed for the big wave!

I follow him down the hall, thinking they misunderstood, saying "Hey, HEY, HEY!" as the bedroom door closes in my face. It reopens just long enough for my pillows to be chucked out into the hall. I try again...you guys can sleep where you usually do. I tell The Youngest, "Your dad is through for the night..."

Hah! The Youngest is laughing, saying he has already claimed the big bed for his for the night. "You said I could have it and no going back on your word..."

How sweet, a sleep over.

I look at his twin bed in "The Man Cave."

Hmmm.

Meanwhile, Farm Boy, seeing that they've already moved headquarters, decides to continue with his project.

Dang. Completely and totally aced out.

I look at the cat. You know the one that likes to take up about a third of my queen size bed.

She looks at me.

"Oh no you don't," I say, as I dive on the boy's bed.

"Mine."

It's a dog eat dog world.

G'nite.

Huh?

Sitting and talking with some friends about a couple we know who have been married for 20+ years. I mentioned that one of the things that impressed me the most was that after all that time of "rubbing along" they still looked at each other and the one adjective they use to describe the other was "fun!!!!" They're like magnets, each seeking the other whenever possible, wanting/needing to spend their spare time with each other.

Now, I'm thinking that in most marriages there are things you appreciate about your spouse and then things you've learned to live with... My view has always been that it works as long as the good out weighs the bad.

Occasionally you see a couple that still appear to be honeymooning years after the fact.

Totally cool.

Most of us, however, have calmed down a bit. Not complaining, just the way it is.

So another gal has been sitting there listening to us chat - all of the sudden she blurts, "Well, ---- (Farmboy) told me he thinks you're funny and interesting."

?????

(LOL - blindsided from the left field!)

I know I just looked at her for a moment, and hopefully the look on my face wasn't too incredulous, finally I just said, "huh?"

Bless her soul. I guess she thought I needed some positive reinforcement, but I'm pretty sure those words have never left his mouth and if they ever did/would  that he wouldn't be having that conversation with  her.

I am funny. In a wickedly, sarcastic kind of way. And interesting? Eh...probably depends on who you are and how bored you are !!!! My sense of self esteem is intact.  But those aren't traits that the Farmboy spends a lot of time dwelling on. And Farmboy has good traits. I'm aware of that. But F.U.N. !!!! Y'know, not everyone is the class clown or a stand up comedian. He's not. That's okay.

So, yes, that was a little weird. I told him about it afterwards. He looked at me and said, "I never said that."

Now I am laughing!!!!!

Yes, dear. I know.

You Little Whippersnapper You!

I head for bed. Close the door, pull my covers up and snuggle in. I start to doze off.

Suddenly I snap back awake. Farm Boy and The Youngest have decided to have a loud and robust conversation in the hall, right outside the bedroom door.

Hunting, guns, ha ha ha, blah, blah, blah.

"Hey!"

Raucous laughter.

"HEY!!!! Shut up out there!!!"

Farm Boy, "Oophs, your mother has issues." I hear his retreating footsteps.

The Youngest however, opens the door, laughing, and says, "You sound just like the old lady in the movies, yelling from the room upstairs!"


"Yessss, thank you. Now close the door."

"Goodnight GRANDMA." he says with a smirk.

"GET OUT."

Brat.

May I Say Who's Calling?

The phone rings.

"Hello?"

"HI! This is Allison."

I'm just standing there...and I'm thinking, the secretary from school? Jillian's sister Allison?

"I'm returning your call?

???? Ummm.

I'm totally drawing a blank and then finally my brain returns from the short cruise it was on to the Bahama's...

"Oh! ALLYSON! Sorry, misplaced my mind for a moment. Yes! I called about...blah, blah, blah..."

Honestly sometimes...and yet I have to laugh about this name confusion game. I was talking to the Farm Boy and saying, "and then Shirley said..."

"Shirley...W****?"

In exasperation, "No, Shirley L***!" What was he thinking? Could he even vaguely envision the other Shirley playing Tarzan from her deck? (I know... great story, but not mine to tell here!)

Or "Carrie called."

"Kerry? You mean, the Bishop?"

"NO! Carrie, the girl."

??? He's got that look, does he even know a female named Carrie?

"For heavens sakes guy, Carrie F*****!"

"Oh."

And so it goes.

But my favorite was talking about Wendy to Wendy. One Wendy is petite and lives in S. California. The other Wendy is tall and lives about a mile from me. I've know the one for 35 years the other about 25 years. But after visiting Los Angeles this summer, apparently I was doing the old, "Wendy this, Wendy that..." It was getting confusing. I started resorting to calling them Little Wendy and....

Of course you can follow the other's 'name' to it's logical conclusion to which SHE said,

"Ummm, no. Let's find a more flattering way to refer to me. I don't do BIG Wendy."

LOL

Whoops. ;)

Small Acts of Kindness

All body parts are functioning as normal, or pretty much as normal as they will ever be again. There are new limitations to live with, but it is what it is. Time to refocus on justifying my existence. So I'm looking for service opportunities.

Be careful what you ask for!

Large and small in the last two weeks all I have to do is stand still for a few moments and "things" present themselves. Which is good, but:

That quick craft project? Six hours later I had it done. Cute, but having bad thoughts about glue guns. Still it was one less thing my very busy friend had to worry about. Made me happy to know I'd lifted a small burden.

Teach what? Ohhh, so not my favorite. I flat said no. She thought I was kidding. Sigh. It won't kill me.

Dinner for how many? Got it covered.

You did what to that computer? And I'm supposed to fix it how? This is gonna take a while.

They are where? Who has them & why? Huh? Okay. Okay. I'll take care of it. Yes. I know. You're welcome.

Twilight? Again. Seriously? Ummm. You know I love you when I stay up until 1:30 in the morning for a girl's night out to see a show I loath, am not really interesting in.

Your teenager needs a place to camp for four days? Sure.

Do I look like your mother? Never mind. Where are you? I'll be right there.

But the best was my pregnant neighbor who was due last Sunday. She called because all her friends who said they'd watch her 3 year old son took off for the weekend and she needed someone to watch Ben until her mother could get here when she went into labor. (Mom lives ~ 100 miles away.) Sure!

I thought about it and called back. "Okay, so you have his favorite snacks/toys, schedule etc. written out /where I can find it to help ease the transition of having a "strange" person coming over to take care of him, yes?"

"Oh, I'll get that taken care of," she said.

The weekend passes. No baby. But last night her husband calls. "Can you take Ben for a while?"

"Oh, sure. What time do you want me over there?"

"How about I just drop him at your house until Grandma gets here?"

So in a little while Mr. Ben is handed in the door with one diaper and dad is gone.

Fortunately I realized that being dropped at the neighbor ladies' place, who he only sees occasionally waving at him from the front yard, might be a bit traumatic so I had Will put on an animated Disney show, we turned up all the lights so it was nice and bright, pulled out a furry, snugly blanket, spread the Lego's out on the floor and strategically placed Spiderman fruit snacks on the table right in front of the TV. When dad set him on the sofa & I placed an open pack of yummies in his hand he was sufficiently distracted so dad could slip out the door.

The kid was totally calm and sweet. Will built him little Lego cars. Ben was perfectly content. He had toys in one hand, snacks in the other and between making putt putt noises for the cars and neighs for the toy horse, he kept an eye on the TV and watched lively segments of the DVD. 

Happy child. Success!

When Grandma showed up, I went to answer the door. My little shadow followed. I said "hi" and turned to pick up Ben's coat. "Time to go, cutie!"

Brakes. REALLY GOOD BRAKES.

He marches quickly into the living room, climbs into the rocking chair, braces his feet, and YELLS, "No! NO! NO!"

New game plan.

I look at grandma. "So, why don't you have a seat, and we'll chat?" :)

We make casual conversation and after a couple of minutes I get up and get a couple more packages of fruit snacks and hand them off.

"Oh, look Ben. Grandma has more Spiderman treats for you!" He calmly looks at her. Then looks away. We chat a bit more, then I pick up the coat again. "Let me help you put on your coat guy!"

I get the look.

Then he holds out one arm, then the other...

He, Grandma & the fruit snacks disappear into the night.

It's good to be useful.

Civility

Another month of this nonsense.

Political debates, elections... the parties clash. The issues polarize the populace. Taxes, women's rights, gay marriage...

There's a lot of my way or the highway going on.

Wow.

I'm seeing things I don't like. HOWEVER, for every belief I hold dear there is someone on the other side. But we seem to be forgetting that our right to swing our fist ends at the other guy's nose. I may bitch about it here but I try to hold my tongue in public because 'they' have their agency. I don't get to tell them what to do. I will share my beliefs but sometimes we end up agreeing to disagree and I go to my corner while they...hmmm, well, unfortunately I've noticed they tend to try to sit on top of me.

That's when I start to get a little frisky.

Get off.

I can't make you accept my definition of marriage. But why do you get to change and define the standard  that has stood for thousands of years?

I can't stop you from having an abortion. But if a cell is dividing and growing, if it has a beating heart, it is by definition, a living thing. Except in the case of rape/ incest, you had the ability to keep that egg from being fertilized. THAT was your choice. Why do you get to take away the choice of an unborn child and kill him? His body - not yours.

I can't stop you from printing every form & notice in several languages. BUT, my grandparent's ALL learned English when they came to this country. A common, spoken language unifies people. Why are you "special?"

I can't...yes, the list goes on.

Mostly, I'd like to see people being responsible for themselves. Everyone could use a hand now and then but if you constantly expect hand outs I'm not sure that I got the memo that said I was responsible for providing them.

I feel like I'm standing here, just trying to hold on to my little patch of  grass. So we call a vote, but if I and like minded people vote and pass a rule or win an election we end up getting shoved up against the wall and threatened until they get what they want... it's never finished until the liberal/radical element prevails. This, of course, is the same liberal faction that fights the idea of presenting valid voter id. Washington State had a governor's race a few years back that a conservative won...by a narrow margin, but he won. So, a recount was called for. He won again...by a narrower margin. Soooooo, they recounted again until the liberal candidate won by the narrowest of margins. The results then stood. It seems a few dogs and dead people had to vote to get those results.       ????

Now, I'm not necessarily a Sarah Palin fan but when Obama first campaigned for President he was young and relatively inexperienced in the political arena. He became the Great Black Hope. Sarah Palin, too, was young and relatively inexperienced but running as theVice Presidential candidate she was virtually crucified for the same traits that Obama had.  ????

Next, (this one is old, but one of my personal favorites...) if you use the word niggardly in a sentence you are a racist.  ????

Also if you have several guys standing together, all with black hair, brown eyes and dark complexions and you identify one as "black," covering anyone of African descent, as opposed to the Oriental, Italian/Middle Eastern Type or Hispanic he's standing by, you are likely to be labeled racist. (Seriously, happened.) Sigh.

I'm not only wondering what happened to civility, but common sense, integrity, morality...

And it looks like I might have to keep wondering.

Speaking In Tongues

Read the book Mount Dragon by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. It's billed as a "genetic research thriller."

I've enjoyed their books - they move right along, and are interesting...The passage that caught my attention this time was between the "good" guy Charles Levine & the "bad" guy, ex-friend/power broker, Brent Scopes. They're about to die...

Scopes poses the question: "Do you believe in life after death?"

Levine shook his head, "In Judaism, we believe it's what we do in this life that matters. We achieve immortality through living a righteous life, and worshipping God. The children we leave behind are our immortality."

Scopes points out, "But you have no children, Charles"

"I had always hoped to. I've tried to do good in other ways, not always with success."

Scopes was silent. "I used to despise people who needed to believe in an afterlife," he went on at last. "I thought it was a weakness. Now that the moment of reckoning is here, I wish I had spent more time convincing myself." He looked down. "It would be nice to have some hope."

Hmmm, yes.

I'm totally on board with the idea my children are my "gift" to the world. I expect them to meet and exceed my contributions to society, but I'm pretty sure that my actual salvation/immortality (or place therein) is up to me. For better or worse I think I will be judged for my own actions and, well, I agree it is nice to have hope.

Meanwhile, I've had a couple of interesting conversations recently. That "God thing" kept popping up this summer. Seems there is a trend towards rejecting organized religion. These folks aren't saying they don't believe in God, they just don't want SOMEONE telling them what to believe about God.

Okay. I understand that. But whether you're a Christian, Jew, Muslim, or....just about everyone has a book of instructions. Who decides exactly what those instructions are saying? We go to our different churches & synagogues, mosques, to be taught what these books mean...(defense exhibit #1: Isaiah?  Or how about Leviticus?) I'm not dumb but I'm willing to listen to other's interpretations!

Keep in mind that the people I was talking to came from Christian backgrounds, but they were basically saying they were "rejecting" Christianity in favor of an all seeing God who encompassed all the earth. Well, to an extent, I could agree with that. I do believe there is one God. I just think people have developed different concepts of who He actually is.

I listened carefully as a person explained that she fell under no particular denomination or sect - while she described me as a hard core (?) Mormon, (and she had no problem with that, some of her best friends had been Mormon) she was simply "spiritual." She felt that we, as citizens of the world, had a duty to one another to help each other out. I agreed and said, "We call that...service." Then she said we should impart a portion of our worldly goods to help those less fortunate. "Umhmm...we call that...tithing/fast offering." Continuing on she explained that we have the power to communicate with God. "Yes, I said, we call that...prayer." Finally she spoke about being able to learn to understand the mind of God and receive inspiration from him. "Ah yes, we call that... revelation." I continued... "You know, this is kinda cool. We actually seem to have a lot of common ground!"

She changed the subject.

I thought we were speaking the same language...but, maybe not. Can always hope though, right?

Orson Scott Card - Hypocrite

Interesting stuff by Orson Scott Card in his Alvin Maker series.

Part of conversation between Alvin's troublesome younger brother Calvin Miller, and a character called Taleswapper, a wandering story teller who teaches using tales (parables.) It starts with Calvin berating Taleswapper:

Calvin: "You're just a hypocrite... "

Taleswapper: "A hypocrite?"

Calvin: "Pretending to be what you're not. So other people will trust you , but they're trusting in a bunch of pretenses."

Taleswapper: "That's an interesting idea, there, Calvin. Where do you draw the line between a humble man who knows his own weaknesses but tries to act out virtues he hasn't quite mastered yet, and a proud man who pretends to have those virtues without the slightest intention of acquiring them?"

Taleswapper continued, "So, everyone is a hypocrite except Calvin Miller?  Well, now it sems to be unanimous,we're all prentending to be something that we're not."

Hmm, something to think about for a spell, eh?

Got A Visual On That!

The Youngest comes home, looks me straight in the eye and says, "Mom, I've just seen the world's ugliest woman."

He gets 'the look' and an immediate rebuke for being unkind.

"No, seriously, Mom. This was the female version of Brother -----."

"Oh?"

(Let's understand that the man is somewhat robust, has a florid complexion, with unrefined features and ahhh, a lantern jaw.  Sweet soul, but not much to look at...)

"Yeah, with really long, scraggly, hair."

"Oh. Well, ummm...looks aren't everything boy."

"Mom, you're just not understanding. Brother ----- with makeup, long hair, and... breasts!"

"Ohhhhh..."



And sometimes - well, sometimes you just have to give it up and save the teaching moments for later.

I look at his earnest face, he looks at me...

We can't stop laughing for quite a while.

RE: Make My Day...

'Scuse Me...gotta go find my gun. ;)

Another Rant

So, the facebook post went:

I may be turning into a fussy old woman, but hey...next time you wear the REALLY short, short cutoff jeans to the grocery store, (even if you wear beige spankies or was that your boy cut panties?) please don't bend over like that. :(

And one of the comments went:

... fussy old lady would be the old lady who lays into her in public...and i would have paid to see that (you laying into her, not the scene you described)

My, tongue in cheek, response was:

Nate - I just don't understand how you think anyone as sweet as me would cause a public scene. ;)

 

I'm left thinking this situation is somewhat of a conundrum. We used to wear rather disreputable, cut off blue jeans to the swimming hole when I was a kid...mostly because we didn't have money for 'real' swimming suits, plus, the jeans were short because you don't want a lot of material dragging you down and drowning you while you're just trying to have a little fun and cool off, right? Now, even when girls wear their skimpy bikini's they're usually fairly snug and body parts are "contained." Plus, it is the beach/swimming pool and you're kind of ready for what may be lounging about.

Same thing with sports wear...umm, bicycle shorts? Not a lot left to the imagination but at least everything is tucked in. Wrestling singlets?  Bwahaha...

I don't even have a problem with nudist colonies. Everyone there, at the resort, is (I assume) on the same page, so, no surprises there.

End analysis? I don't like being flashed in public. While it's embarrassing to mention to someone that "your fly is down," I view it as a kindness if someone squeaks up. But, for all the plunging necklines that leave little to the imagination, exposed midriffs that are threatening to disclose pubic hair, and pants that just no way, no how, cover the subject...

Seriously. What do you say? They know what they looked like when they left the house. They dressed that way expressly to attract attention. If some "old lady" kicks up a fuss about it, it's just a no win situation. Because if you try to discretely mention that they are, ahem, exposed, they will be offended and insinuate that you're a pervert for looking. Delicately raise an eyebrow in their direction and you'll hear a muttered, "bitch." If you publicly take them to task for inappropriate wear... Hey! you've just validated their need for attention & they're on top of the world - still probably won't keep them from dropping the f bomb and causing a scene but....

And last week? At the convenience store, a 13/14? year old boy hopped out of the back seat of his car. Stood right by the front door (between my vehicle and his) with his father inside the car.  Yes folks, dad was right there. Raised his shirt and adjusted his jeans, which were at least 3 sizes too big, DOWNWARD. The waist band curved under his buttocks, and the front, rested on top of (how to express this delicately)...his little mound? He vigorously cinched his belt, tightening it to hold the whole show in place.

Oh my.

Doesn't that HURT??

I got out. Walked into the store.

I. Did. Not. Say. A. Word.

Do Your Daily Exercise

In spite of my weight - I do like to exercise.

Really.

Stop laughing.

I love to swim. Don't mind doing water aerobics, working out on weights. Am about ready to get back on a bike. Knee is flexible enough again so just need more power/strength. And one of these days I'll have lost enough weight and have the balance necessary to ride a horse again. And if gardening counts, well, count me in!

But hiking? Eh...if it's to something interesting (like a sale), a scenic vista, or better yet!!! A hot springs!!!! I'm all over it. Walking to be walking? Ummm, not so much.

There in lies a dilemma. Went for a vacation. Lovely!!! First time in years I've done/gone somewhere just for myself. Visiting friends & relatives, chatting, eating, shopping & just hanging out. No schedule, no pressure, no service projects, just play.

Big smile!

However, I've worked so hard to get my knee/leg back in shape that I do try to get my daily exercise, but not a pool in sight. So, bless my sister's soul, she includes me on her daily walks. Okay. I can be a good sport. After all there's good company and this is Alaska. It's so green and beautiful. But I'm a master at going for a little bit then stopping to check out the scenery, view a flower up close, take a picture of a duck...

The sister is no dummy.

It only takes a day or two of this and she catches on. Second nite I hear her on the phone..."Oh, we'd be delighted to babysit your dog!"

???

Who's this "we" she's talking about. Got a frog in your pocket girl?

The next morning, the grand puppy, McGyver, or whatever her name is, rushes down the stairs into my room and leaps into my arms.

Great. (We're talking about the ultimate cat lady, remember?)

Sweet dog. Really.  All 50, wiggly pounds of her.

Time to explore.

So we load her up, get our morning chai, make a few stops and then it's time for a walk.

I get her leash and we're off. The sun is shining, there is a fresh breeze blowing and it's a beautiful 65 degree day. We leave the parking lot at a brisk pace...and accelerate.

Umm, McGyver?

"She doesn't heel, does she?"

"No, she's just a pup."

"Oh.  Rather enthusiastic, eh?"

The sister smiles, "Um hmm!"

Fine.

It doesn't take long for me to realize that this is Alaska! So of course I'd end up being attached to an animal that was part moose sled dog. For the love! I valiantly hang on. pant, pant, pant  And I wonder, does it have another sped?

Other than run?

McGyver, happy little thing (with the foot long tongue), finally went home.

Not to worry tho. Millie took her place the next day.


I mean, who goes on vacation and loses weight?

Why?

The Youngest bounces into the kitchen this morning.

A young, 17 year old man of rare and frequent enthusiasms.

He's got it ALL FIGURED OUT!

He's taking the money he makes from working in the hay fields this summer and for $3000 he's going to get his pilot's license, and next summer?

He's going to be a....(wait for it)





Crop Duster!!!!!!

I know I rolled my eyes...because he started earnestly explaining his theory.

I object. One word. "Danger."

"Phfft!" He exclaims.

"Cost..."

"Oh no....blah, blah, blah" he runs on.

"Experience?"

But he was off and running. He had a plan....again.

Oh me. I'm getting too old for this. And I hate to "stomp" on his dreams. But most of them are designed to give Mom a heart attack. Can he just grow up, make it to 21 without any more breaks, explosions, burns, surgeries, near death drops from silo's, sled rides into sewer systems and? (We don't even want to talk about out houses & rocks...)

But just in case, I've already found my reality check.

http://www.airliners.net/aviation-articles/read.main?id=144

I know - killjoy.

Me Thinks Thou Dost Protest Too Much

Some things just are....

What you see is what you get...

Familiar sayings. But still, feel free to discuss stuff. It seldom hurts to kick the tires, turn things around and look at them from another angle. That old thing about "an unexamined life..." y'know? You have my permission. I know you were waiting for that!

HOWEVER, sometimes a pile of sheet is still a pile of sheet. Doesn't matter if you send it to a lab for analysis, it is what it is. Disclaimer: I know people can compost it ... as a matter of fact Farm Boy works on a process to turn it into methane. (But a rather involved, messy & expensive procedure that your average person doesn't have access to.)

So - while I don't want to intrude on your reality, and if you want to vent, please, be my guest...and sometimes it helps to just laugh about the things/people we can not change, but the saccharin massage? The "if I deny reality long enuf,"  maybe it will go away? Spare me. Please.

I wholly encourage the power of positive thinking, but it's easier to change your life if you step out of fairy tale land. Mayhaps the following advise:




Capeesh?

I'm Bad

ReplyTo: CustomerService@salliemae.com

Subject: Your Sallie Mae statement is ready to view

Arrghh!

The #1 Daughter has been in South Africa for two months. She's just finished her training for the Peace Corps and now has moved to her permanent village in Zulu land where she will utilize her college degree in Public Health and it's emphasis on Epidemiology (study of infectious diseases.)

She will be there for the next two years and I'm left in charge of her banking account and making sure $$$ are transferred to take care of her concerns here in the States. One of which was paying off her student loan. I did so. Sent them a cashier check from her account which she has put me on as a co-signer. I called Sallie Mae @ the start of March, got the payoff and requested information on interest for the few days the check would be in transit. Thought we had it covered. The Daughter gets an email today w/her new statement. She owes 82 cents.  ????

I call them.  When all is said and done here's the email I just sent her:


Dear Daughter:

Okay, gotta love bureaucrats...not. Sent cashiers check in March, specifically asked for payoff w/grace from postal stamp date or additional interest for mail time whichever they preferred, just tell me what I need to send ... some companies use the posted date as their cutoff, but no. Not Sallie Mae. And the amount I sent ended up not being correct. Anyway instead of paying off 2 of the 3 loans completely they left a little principal on each loan for the few days lag time between when I sent it and when they posted it. Total was about .82. ???? Seriously? So I call and tell my main man Jeremy, I'm going to use my visa cash card to pay it. Today. Instead he wanted to bill me? Huh? "No, let's just do it now, save you postage and me trying to guess how much interest I'm going to have to pay this time and still not get the thing totally paid off." "Well... okay," he says. Doesn't seem to want to do it. He tells me he'll have to charge a minimum of $1 to the card so I'll end up overpaying .18.

Really?

I cheerfully answer, "That's fine. It's a check card which means it's going to cost Sallie Mae .85 cents to process it, you (Sallie Mae) will get .15. So, in the ultimate nod to stupidity, when we're done with all this nonsence we will have wasted your time and I'll have had the satisfaction of doing it. So at this point I'm thinking win-win!"

"Ahhh," he says. Pause. "Is there anything else we can do for you today?"  Me, "No, I'm good."

Anyway a statement is supposed to show up within 30 days in the mail showing that the loan is paid - free & clear and you should be getting an email. Oh, by the way, to save confusion I used your name. He thinks you're a bitch.

Love you.  Bye

Why Would I Lie?

Love the English language. Just wish I had a better command of it...

Last month there was an article from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch talking about a guy who had claimed he was a decorated war hero.

Never happened. So they were trying to pass a law making it illegal to claim you had received awards from the armed services when you actually had not. I understand the concept but that First Amendment is kind of a sticky little thing. You can get into trouble for liable - knowingly saying untrue things about others and defaming their character but lies? I guess everyone has their own perspective, a better question might be what is truth? Following is an excerpt from the article:

The most pathetic lies are protected by the First Amendment.  The First Amendment to the constitution reads, in part, "Congress shall make no law...abridging the freedom of speech."


The notion that anyone falsely would claim to have been decorated is despicable, contemptible, infuriating, outrageous and other adjectives precluded by space and taste.

Okay, I just don't want to deal w/the guy who's lying about being a decorated war hero.
What I want to talk about is that last sentence.

Is that not a great piece of writing? And I love the... other adjectives precluded by space and taste.

How often have you listened to people or read things that absolutely precluded any pretensions to taste, or even demonstrated the ability to utilize the English language proficiently?  (Disclaimer: Can I stomp around in the mosh pit with the best of them?  Well...unfortunately yes.) But I also have a great appreciation for being able to prove oneself semi-literate or at least pretend you have access to a dictionary. Go read some of Winston Churchill's stuff. Especially some of his one line retorts.  My personal favorite is one fired at Lady Astor, (neither of whom apparently cared for the other) She: "Sir, if you were my husband, I would poison your tea!" To which Winston Churchill replied, "Madame, if you were my wife, I would drink it."

What a fabulous come back! Today you seldom hear an outrageous compliment or an extraordinary put down. Most of the time someones displeasure is just expressed with a "f*** you."

Really?  That's it? Guess one doesn't have to worry about a continuing dialog or discussion to resolve any issues. Everyone just walks away with the f-bomb hanging in the air.

So to the guy lying about his war medals. Shame on you. Further discussion of your integrity is indeed prohibited by space and taste. There's a whole movie about "Why would I lie?" It's kinda of funny on an entertainment level...in real life, no.

We have freedom of speech in this country. We have and enjoy many more freedoms that people across the world can only dream about. I wish we all appreciated that fact more.

Boys Are Gross!

Seriously...

The Youngest gets off the Transit Bus, crosses the parking lot and hops in our rig.

"Wow," he says. "Couldn't wait to get out of there. I've had the worse case of gas and have been holding it all the way from Richland."

?????

"Those chicken sandwiches they serve in the cafeteria at school are toxic!"

I look at him in alarm.



Too late.

The fumes almost make my eyes water. I hurriedly roll down the window.

HE just sits there and grins. He thinks he's funny.


And they wonder why people abuse their children....

Private Club

The Youngest has been a naughty boy and has been grounded for the last two weeks. This means, in part, that his driving privileges have been temporarily revoked.

Win, win situation for me. I have to go to Richland to work out anyway, so I can run him to school, he gets his dose of discipline as his buddies see him dropped off by his mommy and then I head for the club. This gets me to a water aerobics class that is just one hour earlier than the one I usually attend. Only difference is that the ladies in class all range in the late 60's to 70's + years old, instead of the 40-50 range in the later class. So, nice women, but most are my mother's age.

One sweet woman, named Leah, belongs to the same church as I, just attends a different ward. She goes out of her way to include me and the past two weeks have been fun getting to know her.

Today, Joan shows up.

Everyone else knows her but it's the first time I've seen her. Been on vacation, maybe? Leah & I are talking, she sees Joan and motions her into our "circle." Leah leans forward conspiratorially and whispers to Joan, "She's one of us."

I look at the rest of the octogenarians. I'm a little concerned. How old does she think I am?????

OH!

She means I'm LDS.

Whew!

That I can live with. Welcome to the club!!!!