2006 Starting with a Fizzle

I just realized how lame it is that I’m blogging on New Years’ Eve at 1 o’clock in the morning… okay, New Years’ Day. My life, it is exciting. More so that Hubby and I actually stayed awake until 10 p.m. before deciding to hit the hay. (That’s a little country term for you citified people – it means going to bed).

However, after the pound of cocktail shrimp, half dozen lil’ smokies, hot spicy cheese dip, olives, crackers, canned cheese, leftover cold turkey, and coffee cake that I consumed before going to bed, sleep has found itself to be all but extinct.

Exception being: Hubby. This is a man who can no more than take off his glasses, kiss me goodnight, pet the cat and roll over than he is snoring. Also, I love the guy, but after an evening consuming beer and clamato juice cocktails, along with the aforementioned foods, the gas problem is… uh… obvious… to all but the people who have had their olfactory nerves severed.

Sooo… I crawl out of bed, slip into the other room and catch some of “Dick Clark’s Rockin’ Eve with Almost Everyone on the Planet Earth Except Dick Clark…” oh, WAIT… I heard his voice for ten seconds before the commercial break. By God, he’s NOT dead! Sorry. Couldn’t resist. After a bit of that nonsense I switched over to “New Year’s Eve LIVE with Regis”. Oh. My. Explain to me, please, how at 11:15 p.m. central time, New York Times’ Square has dropped the ball with Dick Clark, but where Regis is standing in Times’ Square – THREE BLOCKS FROM THE BALL (Regis told me that himself) it is LIVE and has not yet dropped. Huh? I know Regis is a very powerful TV personality, but even that takes the cake. The man can control time! I am in awe. Maybe he IS the anti-christ.

At last I give up on the celebrations and decide to just give up and read and/or blog until my eyes stay open no more… it’s coming quickly, as I’m not as young as I used to be… and it’s just another year. Pretty exciting here in Iowa, I tell ya! Hope you are having a safe and sane New Years’ Eve and we’ll see ya in the mornin’… oh, yeah… it’s already morning…


…we don’ need no stinkin’ resolutions! Okay, maybe we do…

  • be better about my health, including exersize and diet (I’ll start soon…it doesn’t have to be the first…)
  • be nicer to my inlaws (bite your tongue)
  • be more organized (a gal can dream)
  • learn this “WoW” (“World of Warcraft”) game that I got for Christmas from my “WoW” obsessed daughter and son-in-law (who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?)
  • try to be more sociable (I can hear my children’s hysterical laughter from miles away…)
  • try new recipes…experiment on Hubby (he’ll eat anything!)
  • unpack the rest of my craft (Hubby calls ‘crap’) stuff so I can actually use it – it’s only been packed for two one-and-a-half years
  • start next years’ Christmas shopping early (at least by December 1st)
  • start next years’ Christmas cards early (at least by December 15th)
  • blog
  • blog
  • blog

Happy New Year’s Everybody!!

Oh, Hell… It’s Back

Serves me right. I pin a meme on my daughter and she sends it back. I suppose if I don’t do it this time it’s gonna haunt me. Maybe I need to take up Andy’s attitude. Just say no.

This is the five weird things about me. Remember, I’M not the one saying they’re weird. I’m a bit inspired by Darrell, so two of ’em are like his. (It’s called cheating, people. Get over it.)

1. I’m anti-social. I have a very small circle of friends and am not comfortable around anyone else except those friends or my immediate family. When I say immediate, I mean as in my Hubby, kids, and their significant others and/or kids. This does not include parents, in-laws (of any way, shape or size) and extended family. Sorry. That’s just the way it is. So far, the medication hasn’t helped.

2. My kids like me. I like my kids. My kids like each other. Yep. Weird, I know.

3. I like some odd foods like liver and onions and cooked spinach. Even liked them as a kid. Didn’t like hot dogs or popcorn until I was grown. Probably got sick on them when I was little and just don’t remember, would be my guess. I’m sensitive to spicy food. No, not what YOU call spicy, what you call “mild”… uh huh… it burns. Makes for an interesting time at the local mexican restaurant.

4. I write my best works when I’m in a bad mood, depressed, or when the weather is gloomy. If it’s a beautiful sunny day out, forget it. (Thanks for reminding me of this one, D.)

5. I have to have alone time. Daily. (Hubby would tell you this is part of “only child syndrome”. Some day he’ll write a book: The Care and Feeding of Your Only Child Spouse.) If I don’t, I get a little nutso, cranky, whatever. This is not to mean Hubby can’t be in the next room, and usually is. It just means I need some “me” time to read, write, nap, whatever without obligations to hold up my end of a conversation with anyone either in person or by telephone. Have I metioned I HATE the telephone? Okay, maybe that’s number 6.

That’s all ya get. Not tagging anyone ’cause I already did that. See all the good it did me?

More “Practice”

So… the two weeks are up and I had my doctor appointment today. First, the jaw pain is gone but the ears still have fluid. Refill that perscription. Yes, I got scolded about the diabetes. I’ll try to do better in the new year. Honest. All my tests came back good but that one and it was high. Go figure. I could have told her that.

After a cursory exam, she decides my elbow-arm-shoulder pain is tendonitis. Ice the elbow and take Advil or Aleve. Wow. She couldn’t tell me that one two weeks ago? Hmmm… I will say she was nicer this visit and more chatty and much more approachable. Maybe last time she was just grouchy.

The bowel problems are now being medicated. IBS, or irritable bowl syndrome is what she’s guessing it is. We’ll try this for awhile and see where it leads.

I had the mammogram this afternoon. I must say, I thank God that I have something there for that machine to squish, ’cause I sure as hell don’t know how women who don’t survive. It’s not fun, but it’s not horrid either, but then I have enough to get in that damn contraption. What a deal. Wonder who thought up this device, anyway? At any rate, she is thinking estrogen patches, but still won’t start that until the end of January when I have to come back for a complete physical. Ka-ching! Yep… another visit. At that time she’ll decide based on the mammogram if it looks safe for me to start. Guess another month of night sweats and hot flashes won’t kill me. (For all you men out there, think… putting your testicles in a vice and squishing them flat as they’ll go, then being told “don’t breathe”. Yeah. It’s like that.)

That’s about it. We return to our regularly scheduled rants.

The Holiday Slump

Anyone but me?

Planning and shopping
Lists. More Lists. Done? No.
The people
The lines
Eating and more eating
God, the money!

Fresh snow
Ringing bells
Fairy lights
Silent Night
Deck the Halls
Midnight Mass
The Christmas Story

Children’s laughter
Cookies and milk
Night Before Christmas
Naughty or Nice?

More laughter
Miracle on 34th Street
Holiday Inn
White Christmas
“Every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings…”
More Love

Tears (little)
Five loads of dishes
Ten loads of laundry
Ribbons and paper
Bits of ribbon and paper


Miss you

Holiday Interruptus or a Word from Our Sponsor

Just so you know, I’m managing to get a few words out there, but am not seeing any time to come visit. I’ll probably not get caught up with all of you until after Christmas at the earliest and New Years at the latest. You ARE in my thoughts, however, and I truly hope you and yours have a wonderful Holiday Season… don’t do anything stupid extreme exciting fun while I’m away, okay? I’d hate to miss it. I’ll catch up soon.

You Can’t Kill ‘Em IV

In the midst of the good weekend we were having last, I didn’t want to ruin the mood on Monday by telling you what happened Monday morning… now that a few days have passed and I’ve had time to cool down I’ll tell you. Oh, did I say I cooled down? I lied.

Recently Hubby traded in our ATV for a Rhino. It made more sense where the farm is concerned because he can haul stuff with it and can put a spray tank in the back for spraying fencerows – and he ain’t gettin’ any younger – it’s much more comfortable to ride in. Besides that, it’s kinda fun! I’ve been told this will be a tool I can utilize in my yard, too (ya think he was in the “selling” mode?).

Monday morning bright and early Hubby reported for airport duty. His mother was heading to his sisters’ house for Christmas and he was delivering her to the airport. As he pulls in, he sees tracks all over the yard in the snow. I’ll tell you… the indians have nothin’ on this guy. He (and his Dad before him) can just look at the drive and tell if someone has been there, what kind of vehicle it is, and probably then know who owns it! At any rate, he asks his mom what all the tracks came from (just to see what she’d say).

MIL: THE oldest BOY (see previous post) took my garbage out for me. With. The. Rhino.
Hubby: Uh huh. Then what? He rode all over hell and back with it?
MIL: I don’t know, I wasn’t watching him.
Hubby: Well, neither was his dad – BIL.
MIL: He was out in the shop changing the oil in his truck.
Hubby: Without asking. As usual. Did anyone think to ask if he could ride it? Did anyone call me on my cell phone that I have on 24-7?
MIL: Oh, son, you always get so worked up about this.
Hubby: By ‘this’ do you mean the time THE BOY took the ATV out of the shop and rode it around before we even owned it? Do you mean the time the ATV got taken out, ridden all over, and put back – without anyone mentioning they rolled it and screwed up the handlebars until I found it and specifically asked about it? Is that the ‘this’ you are referring to?

Or maybe it’s the ‘this’ when Em’s stuff got messed with. (Okay, he didn’t say this one, but I wish he had!!)

No. Respect.

This is what it comes down to. Come out to the farm and just do whatever you want with whatever you see and nobody says a word. We have never ever even asked to borrow anything of theirs, let alone taken it without asking. Asshat BIL has a classic Mustang he’s really proud of he’s storing for the winter in MIL’s garage… wonder what he’d think if Hubby grabbed that and went for a drive in the snow and mud, then just put it back without saying anything? Oh, and didn’t bother to offer to pay for the fuel for this little joyride – everyone knows fuel is so cheap now, right?

I don’t know how Hubby can come from this family. It’s been a few days and I still feel like smacking that kid. Hard. At least MIL is gone so we don’t have to endure a Hallmark Christmas Eve with these people. Arrrggghhhh!!!

Flashback – Just to Refresh Your Memory

You Can’t Kill ‘Em II

Once upon a time, there were a BIL and a SIL (sister-in-law, not to be confused with son-in-law)who had two boy monsters creatures flying monkeys children that were the most horrid evil wild precious children on the face of the planet. Just ask them. They’ll tell you. There were days that went from sunup to sundown when voices wouldn’t be raised in anger or jealousy or meanness or spite. (Sorry, I just swallowed my tongue. Happens every time I lie.)BIL is the best flake fake looser leech dad in the world. SIL is the best harp whiner screamer bitch gossip mom in the world. With parents like this, how could THE BOYS lose? (Yes, this must always be said with capital letters.)

When they were smaller versions of rat bastards themselves, they would get into something they shouldn’t and SIL would scream, “Jim*…! “He’d ignore her. “Jimmy!”….”Jimmy Bob stop that!”…. “James Robert, I said to stop that!”… You get the picture. This happened once when we were standing out by our cornfield and Little Jimmy* was digging up corn plants with his shoe. This is our income, our livelihood. This is not a good thing.She’d yell, then go on with her conversation and ignore him until she decided to yell again at which time he’d ignore her again, until finally BIL would be called into play… “BIL, Go DO SOMETHING with your son!”… He’d look at her, look at the kid, and take another swig of his beer/pop/whatever. Realizing everyone was looking at him to DO SOMETHING, he’d take the kid to another room of the house or around the corner of the shed, where he was told he’d been naughty and to not do it again. For at least another 5 minutes, okay?

I’ve got four kids. I’m not into abuse, honest I’m not… but a swat on the butt isn’t beyond my realm of possibility when a kid is just plain ignoring you. I’m talking when they are at that young, impressionable stage in life when a swat can do some good. After they reach a certain age, then you can take away the internet cableTV car keys food.Yeah, you can argue with me that they’ll end up all damaged and hating life, but believe me these people did these kids no favors.I’m also totally against punishing or berating a child in front of their parents. I hate it when others did it to my kids (most notibly BIL and SIL before they had children. With the look that says, MY kids won’t do that when I have kids!) and I feel if the parents are there it is their responsibility to handle it. Unless we’re talking doing something that would cause them death, like running in the street or catching their hair on fire. Then I’ll step in. Only then. Even if I have to bite my tongue until it bleeds.

Point in fact: A few years have gone by and now they are pre-teens. (Actually, now they are teens, but this happened a couple of years ago). Still, basically getting away with anything and everything. MIL has a huge house that she offered to let our youngest daughter live in with her for a couple of semesters while going to college. It was nice for her since she was newly widowed, and it was nice for our daughter – living with family. Daughter has to be gone for a month with a school project out-of-state. MIL asks one of THE BOYS (the oldest) to stay overnight for a night or two. Nothing you’d think twice about, right?Daughter came home. Starting finding things ‘not-quite-right’ with her things. Let’s see… nail polish remover in her toothpaste? Bottles of expensive skin care products dumped out. Perfume dumped out. Underwear rifled. A couple of blank checks missing from her checkbook. Do you get the idea?First she tells us. We’re flabbergasted. (That’s an Iowa word for those of you who don’t know – it means gobsmacked). We can’t imagine what happened. Then we found out Freddy* spent the night downstairs among daughter’s things. Hubby mentioned it to MIL. MIL couldn’t imagine it could be him! If not him, we asked, then WHO? Who has been at your house? Nobody. It’s locked. She lives there alone. No one has been over except Freddy*. Uh huh.

Now, Hubby asks if she is going to have the talk with BIL… ’cause he knows if HE brings it up there will be feudin’ like you’ve only seen in the south. (Apologies to you people from the south.)Okay, she’ll talk to him.We heard BIL got a talkin’ to. Oh, yes. We heard THE BOY got a talkin’ to – sort of. We heard he admitted to some of it. WTF? SOME? How could he just do some of it and yet all the other was done, too? Yeah, we be stupid.That was the end of it. No apologies to daughter. No offers to replace and/or pay her back for all the expensive items ruined. Nothing….and they wonder why we don’t have them over for ‘family events’.

*Names have been changed to protect the innocents little shits.