Reported (A Rant)

I have a pet peeve. Shaddup. I know I have lots of them… it is my blog, I reserve the right to rant. So there.

One of my pet peeves is this… I think it should be made a law that when there is a car accident they should not be allowed to show the vehicles until the families have been notified. They go through all this bullsh*t saying "we can't release the names of the victims until the family has been notified" but they show the damn vehicles! Don't know about you, but if I saw my husbands' pickup or one of my kids' cars on TV, I'd know it was them… and what family wants to find out their loved one is terribly injured or dead by watching it on TV?  I just happen to think that's wrong. Once they are notified, then fine… go ahead and show your news shot if you must.

Just my opinion.

What do you think?

Monday Musings

Snippets on the brain.

  • I'm tired. Full moon. 'nuff said.
  • This Mexican restaurant I wrote about has gone back to the old menu! Whoot! Daughter and I ate there Saturday night and it was wonderful. I'm so happy they changed back. I wonder how much their business dropped off after they changed. When are some of people gonna learn the old "If it ain't broke, don't fix it"?
  • I waited up late for race results from son on Saturday night. It was a double feature after getting rained out on Thursday night. Hubs got home about 2 o'clock and went right to sleep, but of course I had just started watching a movie and had to see the whole thing. The movie? The "Sixth Sense". Yes, I know how it comes out. Why did I stay up until 4 a.m. watching? We'll just chalk that one up to the full moon too, 'kay?
  • Daughter and I also went to "Transformers" Saturday night. She'd seen it before, but we wanted to go to something and it was the best of the bunch. Turned out much better than I expected and actually had some humor in it. I had to keep asking who was bad and who was good – I don't remember watching them so much when my kids were little. I remember the toys, oh yeah… they had lots of those. I remember the later transformers that were animals. I watched them more than the mechanical ones, I think. We found a few weaknesses in the film (yes, besides the plot), but it was a fun night and the special effects were good. Glad we went.
  • Counting down until Daughter moves out. Three days. I'm gonna miss her.

Happy Monday. Oh, and if my template is changed again… well, I'm just getting sick of pink. Brad? If you're reading… do your thing again, 'kay? Thanks.


I was at the grocery store today and couldn't help but notice the two quite elderly ladies in front of me in line. They must have been in their 90s, white haired, shriveled, bent-over… in their "go to town" dresses, support hose and industrial strength orthopedic shoes. The chatted back and forth in their cackly high-pitched squeeks as they made thier purchases:

Lady One, prune juice…….$3.00

Lady Two, six tabloids (you know, the ones that are on newsprint that we all see when we check out but don't actually read)…..$14.00

Having their weekly entertainment taken care of……. priceless.

Coloring Inside the Lines

I like doing many things and although I'm not ADD, I don't bore easily. Rarely, in fact. A feature my husband still has trouble understanding. He'll be sick of watching TV in the evening and wander in to see what I'm doing in the other room and I'll be cross-stitching or working on the computer or gaming or reading or 1001 other things. He's amazed. I don't know if it was because I was an only child and my parents pretty much ignored me and I had to amuse myself, or if I just have one of those brains that is constantly busy, but I do manage to keep entertained.

I've always been a closet artist. I don't know if that's where my daughters get it from, but they are both somewhat into art, the younger more than the elder, but still…  I can hope a bit has rubbed off, right? I've worked in paints (oil, watercolor, acrylic), chalk, pencil, inks, pretty much a hodge-podge of everything. I like most types from modern abstract to the masters and everything in-between. I can copy life-like paintings and do respectably, but I can't do them from scratch. Abstract isn't quite so demanding and I can fudge a bit more with them.

A few years ago a friend got me into rubber stamping. To some of you it is called scrap-booking, except I've not gotten to the point of actually scrap-booking, but am stuck at the greeting card, bookmark, useless trivial "stuff" stage. I do love it, however, and have the stamps, ink, paper, scissors, glues, and trinkets to prove it. Enough that I better die with hand-made funeral cards, or else!

I enjoy photography. I like images that capture feelings… as well as the abstract that capture a mood. I'm very fond of black and white, but love the pictures I take of my flowers and my garden.

I knit and crochet and cross-stitch and sew. Fabric art, if you will. I find I don't enjoy the process of these as much as I enjoy the final pieces. I like knowing I've made something that will keep my kids warm (afghans and scarves) or they will treasure forever (wedding samplers). I find myself scrounging for something to "keep my hands busy" while watching TV and have a hard time just sitting to watch – even if I've taped the program and will be zooming through the commercials. I feel it is wasted time.

Right now I'm in the process of a rather ambitious project that I can't talk about because "some people" may read this and I don't want to spoil the surprise. Suffice it to say, the instructions were very difficult to decipher without doing some coloring. I swear, I'm going to go blind JUST with the coloring. I've gone through two sets of markers already and the third doesn't match the other two exactly (what's with THAT?)… and I'm seeing double more and more as the evening wears on. I know I'm getting older and my eyes are trying to tell me to STOP that they are tired, but I can't…. must.get.this.done.

I really do love my art and I love doing things for friends and family. Just wish I wasn't such a perfectionist and I didn't have to stay "inside the lines" all the time…

Out to the End of the Esophagus

Jules had a post that brought vividly to the forefront of my brain a memory. I was going to get into it on her comments, but decided I'd just skip straight to my own blog and tell the tale…

When I was about 3 I was living with my paternal grandparents subsequent to and after my mother's dying. They were terrific people and had raised four children of their own – the youngest still in high school as I was living there. I'm pretty sure back then they didn't have all the warnings about children choking on small toy pieces, bites of hot dogs, or, in my case, a lifesaver candy. Let's just say, thank goodness lifesaver candies have holes… it probably saved my life.

I remember walking in the house from outside when suddenly I couldn't breathe and yes, the candy was stuck perfectly in my little throat. I remember Grandma keeping her cool as she tried to get it out, then getting my Grandpa and between the two of them trying to get it out. I remember barely being able to breath through my throat, but in thinking back on it, I should have been able to breath through my nose, right? Hmmm…  I just remember them discussing calmly whether to try and put something down my throat to skewer it out or to let nature melt it out. I remember thumps on the back, lots of crying, and flashlights down my throat… "it is getting smaller!"…   One way or another, I remember it finally came out, much to great relief.

That brings me to the present. I have this weird thing I do, unintentionally, that I swear will someday be the death of me. I choke on my own spit. A lot. What's with that? I "swallow wrong", or "inhale" it, or something… but however I do it, I end up choking my fool head off turning 15 shades of red to purple and think I will never breathe again. It isn't like I'm choking on actual food, so there really isn't anything to do to "bring it up" or make me stop. I just gotta run the course.

We won't even get into the whole "once you choke, you gotta sneeze" thing. Okay, now aren't you glad you came by today?



No, not THAT Batman, but my batman, Hubs. We have a bat. In the house. In our three-year-old house. To be exact, in our sono-tube. (It's a sky-light type tube that snakes up through the attic and brings light into the kitchen – I have two of them.) The other day I noticed a dark spot inside one of them. The glass panel on the inside of the house is frosted, so I could just see a dark shape. I thought that wasn't right, but ignored it for a day or so until I realized it had moved. Looking closer, I could see what appeared to be a body and legs. Now we've had several types of frogs around the house, including some pretty wild looking tree frogs. I thought maybe one was sitting on the outside of the tube and the sun was showing the shadow inside. I walked out and stood as far out on the back deck as I could to see what I could see. Nothing. I went inside and took some pictures of the strange shape which I then showed Hubs later on that night when he got home. First words out of his mouth were… "bat". What? No…really?

He proceeded to take a shower and it was early enough in the day there was still plenty of light coming through so I could see the shadow in the tube. I watched it for a bit and sure enough, it started moving around and I actually saw a wing extended… oh, ick! My next thought was how it could have gotten in there? The tube is like your dryer vent tube, expandable, but very shiny on the inside to reflect the light down through it. I thought maybe they'd gotten into the attic and chewed through the side of the tube.

Neither of us was looking forward to going into the attic. Visions of a cloud of bats living up there gave both of us the heebie jeebies. Meanwhile, Barney the Bat was going nowhwere. He had now drawn the attention of the cats who proceeded to stare at the ceiling with unblinking attention… freaking us out with their intensity. We remembered other times our male cat had stared at the ceiling when we could see nothing and wondered what he was hearing up there that we were not…

Finally, on Sunday my "batman" Hubs got a ladder and braved the depths of the attic. To our surprise (and great relief) there was no sign of other bats, mice, bugs, or water leaks. The attic was pristine. So how in the heck had the bat gotten in? Hubs thinks he could see a tad bit of light showing through at the top of the sono tube, on the roof… so maybe it had pulled away a bit, just enough for a bat to follow a bug in. They are like mice, notorious for being able to fit through tiny spaces you'd never dream they could get into.

Next thing will be to go up on the roof… but he's not looking forward to that, at all. I suppose the cover of the sono tube will have to be taken off then somehow we'll have to attract the bat out. Either that or get an exterminator out. What a deal. We were expecting deer, bunnies, coyote, fox, turkeys, pheasants, and, yes, crazy neighbors… but bats? Never crossed our minds.


This may seem like a petty post to most of you out there, but there are a few of you who can relate. My company has always used the cheap one-ply toilet paper. The one that you have to have about 40 sheets of before it even feels like your hand is covered before wiping. Guess what? We just got Charmin. Honest! Can I say I'm actually excited?

You’re Doing Great!

About a week ago I had a doctor appointment. It was my normal every-few-month check up for my diabetes to take blood and find out how the new meds my doctor put me on were working. First off we discussed it all. I think things are better. Guess I'll find out when the tests come back. He checks out my sore shoulder. I haven't told you about that? Well…

The last time I went to the doctor a few months ago, I had a shoulder that was hurting. My right shoulder. He pushed and pulled and did this and that and determined I may have over-extended it at some point and it just hadn't gotten rested enough to heal. He perscribed Aleve twice a day and some light exercises (canned veggies, anyone?). It was getting better. It was

Until I threw something (my purse?) in the back seat of my car. Arrgghhh! I clench my teeth and hold my arm close to my chest cussing vividly under my breath (okay, I admit, it wasn't ALL under my breath). I'd undone all the progress I'd made up until then. I started again, slow, trying to do the Aleve, exercises, and ice/heat. Unfortunately, not much was helping and it kept getting worse. I can't seem to pin down any one motion that is "too far" and makes it hurt. Sometimes moving it a certain way won't hurt, then the next time I do the same thing it screams at me to STOP.

He tells me it is tendinitis. Or, rather, the beginnings. I guess if it really is tendinitis the muscle will pull away from the bone? Or something. It needs surgery to correct at any rate, and I'm not there yet. So, now he's perscribed physical therapy to see if that will help. Oh, and not doing stuff that hurts. You know, like putting your hand above your head or reaching behind you. I don't think I have to describe for you women out there how difficult it is to wash your hair, dry your hair, fix your hair, uh… wipe your backside… (yeah, TMI, sorry) without using your primary hand. Also, I live in t-shirts. It is my main work "uniform"… jeans and a t-shirt. Picture yourself putting on a t-shirt without putting your hand over your head. I have a feeling that I am going to be a real challenge to the PT people.

After all that, I got to do the "poke"… giving my tube or two of blood. I swear the lab person jinxed me big-time. I walk into the lab and she says, "Aren't you the one who has the bad veins?"  Wha? Me? Not that I know of… I've never had trouble giving blood before…  Until today, of course. Damnit. She starts with my left arm and starts poking… and then starts wiggling… the needle. Wiggling? Um…ouch. I don't mind having blood taken, but I don't look and I don't like to FEEL the needle wiggling in my arm. Thank you very much. She finally gives up and goes to my other arm (the sore one)… pulling it out of the socket to get it lined up on her table just so… as I grit my teeth in pain, she pokes and prods until FINALLY she gets the idea to use some smaller needle and that works. She pulls the blood and ends up transferring some of it to another container. Whatever. I'm just glad it's done. Now if I could only have a sucker.

The test results came in the mail Saturday. I open the first page and see where the doctor has hand-written a few notes and among them are, "You're doing great!"… which made me feel good although puzzled… I've never done 'great'. Ever. I start glancing through the other three pages of test results trying to figure out the details when it suddenly struck me. These were not my results. Same first name, different last name. Damn. Now I'm waiting for the nurse to call back to tell me what they want me to do with them… destroy them or send them back to the clinic. I wonder if the other woman got my results? It seemed a bit early for mine to come back, so maybe they aren't even done yet. It will be interesting to see if I'm doing "great", too! I'm not going to hold my breath, tho'…



Aren't they adorable? This is the happy couple, my eldest son and his beautiful bride. The wedding was a couple of weeks ago, but I've had lots of stuff going on and haven't gotten it all down in writing.

Everything was planned to the "nth" degree. My son is notorious for this and although I thought his bride was incredibly meticulous the first time I saw her wedding planner – (not that she isn't) she let me in on a little secret. The volumes of notes she had written out in INK without one scribble or scratch out was a little misleading. She actually had a special pen from Germany that you could "disappear" the ink if you made a mistake. Whew! I'm glad she told me that or I'd have thought she was TOO perfect!

The colors were very classic – black and white – and it was lovely. They had a beautiful day, although a bit warm for the outside pictures taken around town in the sun, the church was air conditioned and it was tolerable. An evening wedding, we spent most of the afternoon waiting for pictures to be taken care of and getting ready.

One funny note – the brides' parents are from a pretty strict religion and we're… um… not. At any rate, I and her mother were to light the side candles for the unity candle. We'd breifly rehearsed the night before and I was having a panic attack wondering if I had my timing correct, so went to talk to her mother. I said, "You come in with your father (the brides' grandfather) and seat him, then stay standing and I then stand and we go up to light the candles then, right?"

"Yes, we go up… bow…proceed up to light the candles… come back down… bow…and be seated."

My panic caught in my throat. Bow? What's this bow stuff? All I could think of was in the catholic church when they cross themselves. Was I supposed to do this? Something more? Oh, yikes! Too nervous to ask the mother, I got the church's wedding planner off to the side. She was a very nice lady, probably in her 60's, and rather short – so I had to lean over and whispered to her what had been said and asked her "how do I bow?". She whispered back…"I don't know! We don't do that in our church… "  I laughed and told her she'd been no help at all. She asked me if I wanted to tell the brides' mother not to do it? No, I figure I'd just wing it.  It was fine. It was merely a pausing at the alter for a second and she bowed her head. Whew! But then, my moment of panic flared again when the candle wouldn't lite. We were to take the unlit ones back to the lit candelabras and lite off of them, then go back to the the unity candle stand near the alter. The candles hadn't been pre-lit and first I couldn't even get mine to light… then I got half-way back to the unity candle (guarding it with my trembling hand) and it went OUT. Oh, geez…  Could this get any better? The brides' mom was practically back to the unity candle already. So much for coordination! I went back and lit the candle again and this time it happened to stay lit. Whew. At that point, I'm sure my face and neck were beet red from embarrassment, but Hubs said he didn't notice so much. Yeah. Thanks, honey.

After that I was pretty much able to relax and enjoy. It was a beautiful ceremony and they had a lovely reception at a downtown restaurant. Lots of good food and wine and friends and family. We're so happy for them both. She even came up to me at the reception and asked me if she could now call me "Mom"… needless to say, I was thrilled to pieces. What a terrific addition to our family!

I can't wait to see the pictures! *

* This one was taken from their christmas card last year