Hey Lady! (a rant)

I think I can see the top of your head over the steering wheel. I know I can see your handi-capped sticker hanging from the rear-view window. Neither of these things alone concern me. What does concern me is the fact you came out of the grocery store parking lot and pulled right in front of me, going clear into the other lane where an on-coming van almost hit you, then proceeded to swerve back and forth along the center line for the next two blocks as if aligning for a landing. I wrote down your license plate, but you turned and went out of sight and I could only hope you weren't heading out to the highway.

I realize older people want to be mobile. I realize they want to have that independence. But not at the risk of killing everyone around them.

Hear me, kids? Put that on your list of "if I get that way you can take me out in the road and shoot me"…

YAWN! (a rant)

This was not the post I was going to have today. As a matter of fact, it isn't one I want to have any day but today called for it. I'm tired. Very, very, very tired. I am a person who needs sleep. When I was a kid I spent half my life being up a night. I considered myself a night person. I can remember when I was 3 or 4 years old and living with my grandparents, sneaking downstairs during the night and sitting in the rocking chair next to the big picture window. I think picture windows must have been the pre-slider days. It was a huge window (even by adult standards) and took up a large section of the livingroom wall. It had the pre-requsite bb-gun-pellet bullseye hole in it (I have no clue which child or grandchild put that there, but I can't remember the window without it.) and I would sit for hours rocking and looking out the window. The house across the street was a two-story and the windows and porch made a "face" – which in my imagination I would play in my mind as it watching me and as lights went on or off upstairs it would "wink" at me. Yes, I had an imagination even then. If I didn't sneak clear downstairs, I would slip down the stairway to the first landing – a small square where the staircase turned. There was a child-sized window on the landing and I could sit there on the floor and gaze out at the trains crossing at the kitty-corner. The trains passed behind the houses across from my grandparents' house, but they lived on a corner and I could see the trains at the crossing. They had a pretty active rail line, including passenger trains and I could watch them for hours, too. Then as a teenager I would sneak out of my bedroom window about 10 p.m. and come home at the crack of dawn – sometimes the paperboy would even beat me back to the house! An hour or so later, off to school. Thank goodness I had an art class first thing in the morning and didn't have to think too hard! The point being, I rarely got tired… I could turn around and do it all again the next night!

Now as an adult I can't get by on 3 or 4 hours or even 8 hours if it is constantly being interrupted. That brings us to last night. After a day (that I will probably post about tomorrow) that wore me out, I was finally home by 8 p.m. and in bed by 9. That's pretty typical. I don't usually sleep until after 10, however, as I use that time for reading. I did read some last night, but felt the need for shut-eye at about 9:30. All was fine until the friggin' phone rang at 11:30. This happened about three or four days ago, too, only that time no one was there. This time? I couldn't understand a word they said, but it was some prank talking in a high voice – said something really fast, then hung up. Gah. I hate, hate, hate, hate, hate (can you tell I don't like it?) when the phone rings at night. It usually isn't good news. People don't call you in the middle of the night to tell you they've gotten a promotion or they've won the lottery… they wait until it is a decent time of the day. In my experience, night calls have only meant someone is in jail… or has died. So even though I would love to disconnect the phone by my bed, if I did and someone DID end up in jail or die and I missed the call, well, that wouldn't be good. Now I'm wide awake and shaking with the adreneline caused by the jarring awake out of a deep sleep by a prankster. Bastard.

I settle down, finally, determining it was not in my best interest tonight to get up and read but to lay there and try deep breathing and calming techniques and let myself drift off again…

…for about another two hours. Now it is the dog. To be specific, my daughter's dog. I love this dog. She is a sweetheart. She only has one bad habit. She barks at the most mundane things. It takes nothing to set her off. You drop a book upstairs? She comes barking in a frenzy from downstairs. She sees a squirrel on the deck? Yup… arf. She has an electronic "bark"collar that is supposed to train her not to bark, but she seems to go through batteries like water. It works as a deterrent to a certain extent, however, the collar must be ON the dog. *Hint* Normally daughter takes her to the furthest reaches of the house to her bedroom at night, then kicks her out in the morning when she hears Hubs or I start moving around and begins the growling that preceeds the barking. That's fine. If we're up, we let her out when we let out the other pups and she's happy. I did say normally. Last night wasn't normal. Occasionally when daughter is too lazy to come up and get the dog when the dog won't come to her super-tired she leaves the dog out loose and for some reason the dog prefers to be upstairs. Anyhow, that's what happened last night. Dog. Barking. I'm too out of it to get up and go make sure she has her anti-bark collar on (which I can tell by the length of time she's barking she either doesn't or the battery is dead again). I finally drag myself out of bed long enough to whisper-yell at her (it's a fine line, trust me). That stops it. For about another two hours. Yeah. Two hours.

Finally, as dawn is creeping in I give a long stretch… ARRRGGGHHHHH! A cramp! A cramp! A cramp! A mother-fucking-hurts-like-hell-grab-your-calf-cramp. I try the "push your heel down" to stretch the muscle. Well, let's just say I TRIED to push… this one was set in good. Set in so good that this morning it still hurts.

Last, but not least, finally I dozed a bit right before dawn. I don't know about you but that seems to be when I have the most vivid dreams and the ones I remember the longest. I was at the old house and walked into the garage to find rats of every shape, size and color that showed no fear whatsoever at the sight of me… so decided to go get a pistol (I just learned to shoot about a year ago) and kill them all. Then woke up. What is up with THAT? I'm sure some therapist would have a heyday.

Tonight won't be an early one, either. We're supposed to go have dinner with my son and his fiance' to check out the restaurant where the rehearsal dinner will be at. I just hope I can stay awake!

Getting It Off My Chest (a rant)

I admit, I'm a little bit growly these days. Partly from not feeling well, but mostly from the asshats I have to deal with in my life at the moment. (No, Hubs,Sweetie, it's not you.) Here are some of the things really pissing me off. If you are in a good mood or just don't feel like listening to someone grumble, I understand. Come back another day and perhaps I'll be better. No guarentee, however.

  • Work related. I am in an office with three men. On the plant site, there are ten other men. They are constantly leaving me alone. Which would be fine, if only they would tell me. Once they leave the office building, I have no clue if they are here in one of the other buildings, just outside, or have actually left the site. When customers call, I can direct them to cell phones or take messages. (However, I must say, once again for everyone's benefit – I am NOT the secretary!) When they show up at the plant I can do nothing. Oh, I can weigh a truck or a tank, but I can't do anything further. I can't get them product, I can't show them where to dump product off the trucks, I can't tell them where to put or pick up a tank, I can't look up a bill or tell them how much they owe. It isn't my job and I honestly don't want to learn it. I have enough on my plate as it is. It is extremely frustrating to be left alone without a clue if someone is outside that can handle some of these issues when they arise. It's irritating and embarrassing as hell to send a customer out to the shed thinking there will be "someone to help them"… only to have the customer come back after having searched the entire site and not finding anyone. Damnit.
  • Once again my BIL has pissed me off. (Surprise!) Last week he showed up at Hubs' shop with The Boys in tow… and proceeded to make himself at home on the hoist (that he doesn't own). He brought some of the parts that he needed for the vehicle he was fixing, but of COURSE he didn't bring tools (and tried to use the wrong tools to achieve the job – which, if Hubs hadn't caught him would have resulted in damaged tools that Hubs would have had to replace at OUR cost…) nor did he bring things like break cleaner, lubricant, etc. You know, those things that in HIS mind don't cost anything. (Of course they don't, dumbass – because you. aren't. paying. for. them.)
  • After doing whatever damage they could do at the shop, BIL and The Boys proceeded to come to our house (thank God I wasn't there) to "talk to Hubs" about "something important". Oh, shit. My first thought was the eldest Boy wanted to try and convince Hubs to let him work for him again. He'd asked once before, but it's not gonna happen. Well, that wasn't it. Get this. Eldest is graduating from high school and wants to have his senior yearbook picture taken with Hubs' semi-truck. WTF? It isn't his, he's never driven it, he doesn't drive semi trucks but he just "likes the way it looks". Hubs and I have a suspicion that because it has our last name on it and it is the same as his last name, eventually he'll be telling everyone that is IS his truck and/or he drives it. We're thinking we could be sneaky and quickly have Hubs' first name slapped on there, too…  I know, we're devious. I mean, I can see having your picture taken with your horse or your dog or your car… but someone else's stuff? Am I the only one who thinks that's weird?
  • Last, but nowhere least, comes the crowning glory on my good mood. Mother-in-law is still gone. That's the good news. Bad news is, she called and informed us in the excited voice that only dogs can hear that my sister-in-law, her husband, her two grown children and one of their spouses (the other isn't married) will ALL be coming in less than a month for eldest son's wedding. (Shoot me now!) This should be a great thing, if we really liked any part of my Hubs' family (I'm soooo going to hell). I just know how MIL acts when the SIL or any of her family comes to town. The world stops. I mean, literally comes to a crashing halt. Any part of your life that you had made plans for just went out the window and you are sucked into what we lovingly call "command performances" for the Queen. (Technically, MIL should be the Queen and SIL should be the Princess, but for some reason, they both have Queen status). Well, I'm prepared for them to expect total attention when they come to town and this time? It ain't gonna happen. Uh uh. No way. I've got wedding stuff to get ready for and wedding stuff to do and by god I'm going to enjoy my son and his bride and all this that is about THEM.  (This may have some long-time grudge factored in from when our children were small and we drove three days straight to see these people on their dairy farm in 100 degree heat with a teething youngest child screaming most of the way and mountain-road-motion-sick-Hubs only to arrive and be told that we could "look around, but we can't visit right now"… as they were getting ready to go to some cattle show that lasted a week. Like they didn't KNOW we were coming? What the hell?  I spent more time that week babysitting ours and theirs and doing dishes and cleaning and cooking than I do at home! Am I still bitter? Just a bit…) So, excuse me if I can't get excited over the prospect of all of these people coming. I'm just a little bit stressed at having my house in order for pre-wedding activities and getting all the wedding things done and I really, really, yes… really, aren't looking forward to them being in the vacinity. (Did I mention I'm going to hell? Yeah.)

Sooo… on that happy note… my only good news is that I went to son's races on Saturday night and he WON! Whoot! Also, it looks like we may be going to a race later this week and camping at it for a couple of days… without MIL! This will be the very first time we've been able to go out in the RV without her. I'm not sure I'll know how to act without someone yakking as we try to nap, picking up sticks all over the campground,  and sweeping the RV every 30 seconds. Maybe it will actually be like a mini-vacation! Wouldn't THAT be nice. Then again, it may get rained out so I'm not going to hope too hard. Just will be an unexpected pleasure if it happens.

So, what have I missed?

3:30 aayem (a rant)

Dear Mother-in-law,

I realize you are wide awake. I realize you've probably had a pot of extra-strength coffee. I realize you're excited about going on your trip to visit your daughter. You always get excited to go anywhere. I realize you are concerned about me over-sleeping and not getting you to the airport in the perscribed 2 hour advance window all passengers are expected to arrive in. Please note for further consideration that I have taken all these things into account when you

a.) Call me at 4:55 a.m. to ask me "Are you coming" as I am on the road and half a mile from your house? (I was to be there at 5:15, I believe, and will actually be arriving at 5:00 sharp.)

b.) Talk to me in chipper, wide awake tones that somehow expect responses

I hope you realize from my one-word comments, head nods and vague "uh-huh"s… that I just really wish you would SHUT THE FUCK UP. You have known me for over 27 years. Have you learned nothing about me yet? I am not a morning person. I have been up since three-fucking-thirty-aayem just because my alarm was set for four o'clock and I do not respond well to having alarm clocks set. I don't sleep well (even after having taken a perscription sleeping tablet and going to bed at 8 p.m.). I toss and turn and open one eye to stare at the clock throughout the night to be sure I don't oversleep… 'cause you just know the night I'm supposed to wake up at four-fucking-aayem will be the night the power blinks and the battery backup fails and I have to wake up to your phone call…"Are you coming?".

Have a nice trip. I know Hubs is looking forward to going two whole weeks without having you grabbing onto him like the leech you can be at sons' races. Uh-oh. That sounded rather mean. Rather like someone who didn't get enough sleep last night…

Six and Counting (a rant)


I started out with 12 tomato plants and six peppers and six flowering kale. After losing some, replacing some, and giving up the fight for awhile the last count was 3 peppers, zero kale, and six tomato plants. I forgot to mention the new raid someone (bunnies?) have made on the impatients I planted. Out of about 24 of those I planted, I've got about 10 left. Two hostas have been munched (one completely gone, one just missing limbs).

This weekend I'm going to get full assault on the enemy. I'm getting replacement plants, chicken wire, and posting Hubs out on the deck with his gun.

Just kidding… or am I?

(I updated this with the comic Michael linked to – seemed very appropriate!)

Aggrevations – How Many Fingers Do I Have (a rant)

The true name for this post should be "Pissed Off". A couple of things are bugging me right now and I'm here to get them off my chest… 'cause, you know, I can. (In no particular order.) I promise to stop when I run out of fingers… for now.

  1. Nicole had a nice rant the other day about Butterball Turkey and customer service. I am here to provide similar grumblings about the 7-up company. I am diabetic. I still like to drink pop. I drink diet pop. However, I'm a bit odd in that I appear to have some allergy or aversion to Aspertame or other 'fake' sweeteners – except Splenda. That's the only one that doesn't give me a migraine within 30 minutes of consuming it. I read labels carefully when looking at low-sugar or sugar free products to make sure they are made with Splenda. (You see where I'm going with this, I'm sure…) Over the past couple of years there has been a big increase in the number of products that are using Splenda. I was thrilled when diet 7-up switched to using it – I've always liked 7-up – and it's rather a staple. My earliest memories of upset tummies always included saltine crackers and 7-up. Also, because it is caffiene free it was a nice bubbly beverage to have at bedtime. Well… I don't know why because they won't tell me, but they have gone back to aspertame. They certainly didn't ask me first! They came out with this new advertising about how they were "all natural" and "new formula" and all that crap… and it looks to me like they sold out and went back to the old formula with new packaging. As rarely as I contact any type of customer feedback (because how many lists is that gonna get me on?) I felt obliged to let them know they screwed up. Yes, I did it properly and calmly and didn't use one profanity, although you just know I was wanting to. A couple weeks go by and I get this email response – "Thank you for your comments. We will pass it on to our marketing department." Yeah. I'll bet they'll find a cozy place for it right in their circular file.
  2. I've left Blogger, but they haven't left me. Why is it on some Blogger sites I have to sign in with my Blogger account. I know, I know, it's because the people who have the blog have set it up for no anonymous commenters. Still. I should be able to have a choice then between Blogger sign-in or Other. I hate to have to sign in with Blogger where, if they want to come see mine they have to click through the old site first. Shouldn't things be easy?
  3. How could they (AI) get rid of Melinda?
  4. Why can't I walk out of a bad movie? Do I really think it is going to get better? (Save your money. Don't go to Spiderman 3. Or anything with Steven Segal.)
  5. If you read the note on my office door it asks you to please NOT put food-type garbage (aka lunch trash) in the garbage cans within my actual desk space. Yes, I have an actual office – with a door and a window – but the door never closes and window is just a picture window into the next office that has a window into the next office which eventually you can look outside another window. However, no windows can be opened in my space so no fresh air comes into my space except through the door which is back in the corner and is not air-flow friendly. I share this space with a large, ex-college football player who is single and wears the smelliest shoes on the planet. Seriously. So… in an attempt to at least try and make my work space livable, I have requested the rotting food items be placed in the outer office where there is fresh air circulation and where the garbage can fills up quickly and is emptied quickly. Today my office stinks. Badly. Under investigation I've found a number of violations of my request. Thanks, guys.
  6. You are a slob. You've admitted you're a slob. So on your day off when you're bored, you couldn't maybe clean up the dirty dishes instead of baking (not-sugar-free) cookies making more? I asked if you were going to maybe do the dishes. I got a non-committal answer. Not that I'm OCD or anything, but I do like to see the countertop from time-to-time and enjoy having a clean workspace to fix supper and lunches to deliver to the field. Because I had no clue when you were getting off the phone and doing said dishes, I did them. Yes, I'm an enabler. I can live with that. BUT…then did you have to make MORE? I mean, c'mon. Really. A little help here would be nice. (I see the eye-rolling and the looking at the calendar – counting the days until you are moving out into your own place where you can make your own messes and the maid no one will be around to clean up after you OR to whine or bitch at how long the dishes sit where they are left.)
  7. When I buy tobacco products for my husband, I would appreciate it if you would not look at me with that "got us another one, Mabel" trailer-trash glare. It is not for me. I will gladly tell you it's not for me, but it really isn't any of your business.
  8. Four weeks ago I contacted you, Mr. Internet Guy. I was excited because your company finally had service that I'd been promised they would have three years ago when we moved into our new house. After waiting about six months for your company to come through, I gave up and went with plan B. Now your company has the service. They've been advertising it and it is to be FASTER! and CHEAPER! and BETTER! (Yes, that is just the way I see those words in my mind. Shaddup.) So I call you. You tell me it is pretty new and you have to take classes on installation. Two weeks, you say. Two weeks later (for those of you playing along, that would be two weeks AGO) I call you again and you tell me you've completed part of the process but another bit needs to be done and it will be no longer than two weeks more. Do I call you? Do I wait? Is hell freezing over anytime soon? Gah.
  9. Last night after work I came home to water the gardens and realized I was missing two tomato plants, a green pepper plant and three flowering kale. This morning there were two more tomato plants gone and two more kale missing. a.) A deer? b.) Bunnies? C.) Crotchety old lady neighbor? This garden is two feet from my 50-lb beagle's pen. Good watch dog, is he. Guess I'm going to have to get some chickenwire to put around it. That might take care of a. or b.  If it turns out to be c. I'm turning Hubs loose with the shotgun.
  10. …and just because I have one finger left (I'll leave it to you to decide which finger this should be…) I seem to have lost some people when I came over from Blogger. Is it that big of a problem to jump that link from the old site to this one? Isn't this one much better to read? Isn't it more user friendly? (Except for stats which poor Brad has to put back on everytime I change templates… *hint*) I realize it doesn't have quite as much "stuff" over there – I lost my moon phases (trust me, I know when there is a full moon, don't need the i-net to tell me) and the weather girl (yeah, I can figure that part out myself, too) – but really, you get way more content. Right? RIGHT? C'mon, lurkers… let's hear it from the peanut gallery!

That's it. I'm out of fingers. Won't go so far as to count the toes. Will save those for another day. Thanks for coming by… you know who you are.