Another wasted day?

Tuesday night we didn't eat dinner until 9:30 PM because of the speech contest where my daughter placed 4th. She hadn't been hungry before the contest, and since I was still full from my southwest chicken salad with jalapeno dressing from lunch, I decided dinner could wait. Wrong move. I was up all night with a full stomach. I think I finally fell asleep around 3:00 in the morning. That is only four hours of sleep for a woman that usually gets six hours but should have eight.

So, after dropping off the children at school yesterday I came home, played on the computer, and then went back to bed to sleep off my not sleeping the night before. Nothing got done in my home or my life. So much for good intentions.

Today my youngest awaken me by coming into my room crying and moaning, "Mommy? Mommy?" She told me she was sick, which translated into my fuzzy still half asleep brain as vomit, so I leaped out of bed screaming, "Go to the bathroom! The bathroom!" Turns out by sick she meant fever, sore throat, and dizziness. She is home from school where I am trying not to think "swine flu" despite the helpful advice of everyone around me.

Jyoti - "Dev says you should take her to the doctor. The swine flu thing he says."
Robin - "Well, swine flu it isn't something you want to mess with."
Kelly - "Is her tail getting curly? If her nose gets circular and flat and she turns a pinkish color then you should probably think about taking her in."

Okay, well not all of it was helpful.

The point is I am still in my pajamas at 11:00 AM. The breakfast dishes are still in the sink, the egg pan still on the stove. Darcy is on the couch curled up with Molly, sucking her thumb, and watching cartoons. I am not getting anything done in my house or in my life. Except for this post. Does that count?

Weighing in.....on important issues

Some things that have me wondering...

• The Woman Who Made Her Kids Walk After Fighting In The Car - Not smart in this day and age. Understand that anger, but know that I wouldn't let them out because we don't live in an area that they could walk home safely. Should she be arrested? Welcome to government intervention in America. Whatever happened to the good old days when parents could tell their kids, "If you don't stop that fighting right now, I'm going to pull this car over and spank you?"

• The Planes Flying Over The Statue of Liberty - Wow! Obviously not enough work for people in the defense department. How many people thought this was a good idea? And didn't the President notice that his plane wasn't in the hanger?

• Celebrity Apprentice - I only watched this show the first time because Gene Simmons was on it, and as soon as he was off I stopped watching. This season I watched because I listened to the buzz on Joan Rivers. Now I'm asking myself why? What is the purpose of this game? I'm beginning to think that if you are loud and abusive you get to stay. Apparently, it is about raising the most funds, yet the last two episodes haven't involved raising any money. I'd like to see Jesse James win the whole thing for playing a clean game and doing the tasks that were set before him. Unfortunately, the poker player chick, Annie, will be in the finals. For good TV she will be against Joan Rivers. The whole thing seems staged to me. Yet I can't stop watching despite how dirty and depressed I feel afterward.

• The Burner Covers on Kelly's Beach House Stove - The stove has four burners, three small ones and one big one. I've never seen that on a stove before, although Kelly assures me that all of her apartments have this. Yet, to replace the burner inserts she can only find packages that are sold with two big and two small inserts. Probably because that is the way stoves are made! And to add insult the inserts that are on the stove now don't even fit over the prong that attaches to the burner itself. Instead, the insert sits on top of the prong and the burner sits up higher than it is supposed to because it can't find the prong! Absolutely, crazy, and the solution that I have come up with is to replace my stove with a new one and put my old stove in the Beach House. The one in the Beach House? In the trash.

• Our Turtle Toby - This is a turtle that I never wanted. I grew up with a turtle that was insane. He ate other turtles. He snapped at anything that was put within reach of his mouth. He lived despite being frozen into a block of ice when his tank was left outside in the winter. He climbed out of a Styrofoam cooler by digging his nails into the side and climbing up and over. I did not choose to live with another one. But we are. We have this turtle and guess who takes care of it? Guess who runs to the pet store and buys his supplies? Guess who scrubs the algae off his shell and out of the tank. Not the kid who begged me for the animal. My solution to this? I'm calling SueG. I have a direct line.

Beach House Moving - Part 1

Things I discovered while helping Kelly start to move into her new beach house:

• Kelly's sense of organization will be the death of me. She has a month to move. I suggest she move one room at a time. I wanted to clean the beach house kitchen, pack up her apartment kitchen, and unload and put away all the kitchen stuff in the beach house this weekend. Kelly wanted to move whatever boxes she had packed to store them all in the second bedroom, which will become a storage room if I don't keep an eye on that.

• People who rent places do not care if they are clean, have working parts, or are outdated. The beach house was dirty when we got the key. The kitchen cabinets hadn't been cleaned and there was still stuff left in them. The stove was plain filthy. The walls in the bedrooms were full of prints and dirt of different colors and origins. The screen in the front door was pulled out in the corner. The entire kitchen counter was warped from water damage and sags. The bottom of the cabinet in the bathroom had water damage and there was a large broken chunk missing. The outlets are a dingy yellow that does not go with the new white tiles and white walls.

• Kelly does not know how to dress properly for moving. The first day she and Darcy wore flip flops as we carried boxes of items down the rotting steep staircase to the cars. I griped about this as we hauled her wrought iron baker's rack downstairs. Of course, Kelly's flip flop curled up under her on the third step and down she went....three more stairs.

• Neighborhoods are not like they were in my childhood. There are four units in this beach building. Two up and two down. To get to Kelly's place we must walk past the first unit. The windows and door were open and we heard voices but never once did they come to the door and give a greeting. The neighbor upstairs did offer a wave as she trudged up the stairs, but only because she was caught blatantly peering into the unit at us. The mailman, Dan, however, is a friendly man who bleeds black and gold and has a beautiful tattoo on his right bicep of the Pittsburgh Steelers insignia. Alas, my camera was left back at the apartment. Dan the man mailman has promised me a photo next time he sees me.

• Kelly and I are quite capable of handling any tasks set before us. I gave Kelly a rocking glider and ottoman. To get the ottoman which was stored above my garage door on top of three boards of various sizes that my husband has laid side by side so things can be stored I had to climb on to a step ladder. I could see the ottoman cushion, but not the ottoman frame. The cushion was so far back that I could not reach it from where I stood. Kelly decided that she could get it by standing on the workbench that sits along one wall of my garage. She climbed on to bench using my shoulder and the step ladder and slowly slide her upper body between the garage door and the rung that slides the door up and down. We worried for a few seconds that she might be stuck that way forever. She was unable to reach the cushion. I got a broom and stood back on the ladder where I shoved the cushion to the side where Kelly was standing on the workbench. The cushion missed Kelly's hands but it did fall to the garage floor. Kelly got down. I then moved the ladder to the left and began to slowly hand Kelly items that were stored. Down came some fishing equipment and a piece of board. Down came a suitcase inside of a box. Behind the suitcase, far in the back, I spied the ottoman frame. I took the broom and stuck it into the bottom of the ottoman and slowly pulled it toward me. The ottoman came forth most of the way and then got stuck on one of the boards. We debated and then Kelly got a stick and pushed the first board up so that it reached the same height as the problem board. I then resumed my pulling and the ottoman came down quite nicely.

• I am seriously going to enjoy visiting Kelly in her new home. Hell, I can't wait to feed her cat. Because where else can you get this view?

Springtime in Florida

This is Florida's sign of spring. Each year in the early part of April, the Jacaranda trees sprout these beautiful purple flowers that just explode with color. This year they are late in blooming.
The trees are everywhere in our little county. This tree to the left is on my street. There are several other trees up and down the road that runs north and south outside of my neighborhood.

The girls and I play a game to see how many Jacaranda trees we can spot on a drive. The trick is to shout out, "Jacaranda!" when you see one and then you get a point. The person with the most points at the end of our travels wins the game.

It is a great game to play when we are going from one city to the next. The best part is trying to play it coy as we get closer to the road outside our neighborhood since we know where each tree is located. We all act nonchalant about it, try to distract the others, and then shout quickly when we see them.

The trees only last in purple bloom for about two weeks and then the flowers fall off leaving a colorful carpet on the ground. The rest of the year the trees have green leaves and look like any other tree.

But when the purple explodes....spring is here!

New Friends

Yesterday I met a friend I hadn't seen in a long time at McDonald's for breakfast. I got there first, and because I was starving, I ordered and took my breakfast to the sitting area at the front of the building. I sat in a booth in the middle of the room that was between two other booths. The booth in front of me was occupied by a single gentleman reading a newspaper and drinking coffee. The booth behind me was taken up with three men drinking coffee. To my right, was another table with another man drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. Directly across from the booth behind me was a table with a booth seat that was turned so that the occupant was staring in my direction. Seated there was a bald man drinking a cup of coffee.

I opened up my sandwich and began gulping it down, listening to the conversation behind me. At one point the man directly behind me said something that reminded me of my father. I snickered. Then the front door opened and in walked a man carrying his own coffee cup. One of the men behind me yelled at him, "There's Bill!"

Bill ignored him, went to the counter, got his coffee cup filled, and then sat down in the booth behind me where he then hollered across to the man seated in the booth seat across from him. I looked up. The man reading the newspaper to my right in front of me winked at me and pointed to the booth of men behind me. That's when I realized that all of these men knew each other. I turned around to the booth.

Me: "Listen, could you guys hold it down a bit I'm trying to eat."
Bill: "Who said that?"
Me: "You heard me, Bill."
Man w/Bill: "We got us a live one here."

I proceeded to get the scoop. These men come into McDonald's every morning and sit around the room drinking coffee and chewing the fat. They can't all sit together because the booths are not big enough. They have assigned seats and assigned parking spots. The table I was sitting in was not assigned to anyone until the winter months when the Canadians in their group are in town. I was good.

Bill: "What did you do before?"

Me: "Before what?"

Bill: "Before when you were single. You aren't single now, are you?"

Me: "Why? Are you looking?"

Bill: "No, but he is..." (points to the man across the table from him. His name is Dennis)

Me: "Well, I'm a great catch, but I'm married."

Bill: "So what did you do before?"

Me: "I was a brain surgeon."

Bill: "Great! That's great news because Dennis there needs some help. Can you help him, Miss Brain Surgeon?"

Me: "Bill, I was a surgeon. Not a brain transplant doctor."

They loved me. I spent the next two hours off and on talking with them. My friend sat and laughed. I got to know their names. There were three Bills, a George, a John, Dennis, and Phil. Some were married. Some were looking. Apparently, Dennis had a harem at the mall. Throughout the two hours, some left and some arrived to take those empty seats. I lost track of names. Finally the last of the group got up to go.

Bill: "Tara, we're off."

George: "Tara? Tara? It's Cara, with a C."

Me: "Seriously, Bill? You just called me Tara?"

Bill: "Well, with all that gabbing you and your friend have been doing I lost my hearing."

Me: "Alright. I forgive you this time, but that's the last time."

Bill: "We don't allow just anyone in here, you know. We'll see you tomorrow."

I won't be there tomorrow, but I'm thinking this might be my new Friday routine.

More Pics from my photo box

My brother doesn't read my blog, but because he was in the same box of photos that Kelly I went through I decided to post them. I have more pictures of him stored in another box of things I took from my house in IN, but that is a bigger project that I'm not willing to tackle at this point in my life.

Here are some pictures of my brother, Rusty:


I don't have a memory of this picture, but I thought it was a funny one. This had to be a set up by my father who loved to pull jokes. Look at that poor kid's face!









A typical picture of my brother. Like Kelly, he is one for posing when a camera is pointed at him. This is taken at the family farm in Indiana. I have no idea who this car belongs to, but if I had to guess I would say it belonged to my cousin Darryl.







This is a typical Mason photo. I can't tell you how many pictures have been taken at this kitchen table. (I could do a blog just on pictures in our kitchen.) Look how I'm hiding my face with a glass. Look how fake Rusty's face is. I'm not sure what we are cooking up with salad dressing, Karo syrup, powdered sugar, and carnation milk though...





I love my little sticker in the corner that reads, "No explanation needed". This looks like it was taken out in front of the house in IN. I have no idea what was happening at the time, but as I said before Rusty was (and still is) always one for posing for the camera.

It did remind me of the time he did something wrong and my mother wanted to spank him. Instead Rusty took off running through the house with my mother chasing him. All the windows were open in the house and Rusty was screaming, "Help! Help me! She's going to kill me!"

He ended up in his room curled in a corner of the bottom of his bunk bed where my mother couldn't reach him. But it didn't matter because by that time she was laughing.

15 good ones

Happy 15 years of married bliss to this gorgeous couple. The evening was spent watching our oldest daughter compete in a semi-final speech contest in which she qualified for the finals. We followed that up with ice cream from McDonald's and going through our wedding album.

Unfortunately, the going through the album was because my husband thought this was our 14th anniversary, and to prove it was our 15th I had to get out the album and show him the wedding invitation. This led to our perusing the album and telling stories to our children.

All in all, not a bad way to celebrate.

What we do for our friends...

I am a good friend. I'm very loyal to my friends, and I hope that they know they can count on me for anything. I am willing to do almost anything for my friends, but today I have gone beyond even what I thought I was capable of doing for a friend.

Kelly is moving into her ONE BLOCK FROM THE BEACH BITCH apartment soon. She gets the key this weekend and will work slowly to build her new home. In planning for this move she has undertaken several challenges that I never thought she would do alone. She is organizing and throwing out her stuff. She turned in her notice to her old apartment. She studied and worked hard to pass a test that would put money in her pocket. She got rid of her old car. She has done a great job, but the one job that she couldn't do was put her cat, Pidgin, to sleep.

Pidgin, as I've written before, is a sweet cat. But she is 17 years old and for the last six months or so has lost some control over her bladder. She has slowly lost weight and is mostly skin and bones underneath all the heavy black fur that covers her. She is very delicate and a move into a new place is liable to send her into a decline of massive proportions. Thus Kelly decided the time had come to have her put to sleep. Unfortunately, she realized she couldn't do this. This is when I stepped up to the plate...so to speak.

Kelly was hoping that Pidgin would expire on her own. Of course, this has not happened. Kelly mused about how she wished someone would just come into her house while she was at work, take the cat, and do the deed. She just couldn't bring herself to put down another cat, as she had already put down her first cat a couple of years ago. I thought about it. Now, as we all know I am not an animal person. It isn't that I dislike animals. I'm just not comfortable or knowledgeable about them enough to own them. I like Pidgin. I didn't much care for the other cat, Tibbs, but Pidgin I like. But I understood that she was old and ailing and not able to make the move. I understood Kelly's reluctance. I just couldn't do the deed myself. Not with Pidgin. Tibbs I could have done, but not Pidgin. I set out to find someone who could.

I ended up with three volunteers. My mother sighed and said she would. My friend, Jim, said he would have no trouble since the cat was old. My buddy, SueG, said, "Oh, for god's sake, I'll do it. The cat is old and peeing everywhere. She is miserable. She needs to end her suffering. I'll do it next week." I went with SueG.

She had me call the animal center, only she kept referring to it as the SPCA so that is what I looked up. They were quite nice when I inquired about prices, etc. The soft-spoken woman explained to me in a somber voice the how and when of such a delicate matter. I kept expecting funeral music to be piped in. Only problem....she needed to speak with Kelly via phone to get her okay. I thanked her, called Kelly, and sent her into a decline. She kept sucking in air as if she were going to hyperventilate or burst into tears at any moment. She told me she couldn't do this. I told her the SPCA was very kind about it. She told me that the SPCA was not the place just down the road from our house. We argued. She was right. I hung up and called the animal services located down the road from our house. A gravel-voiced man informed me it would be no problem just bring her on in. I called Kelly and told her to forget my previous phone call.

Kelly was okay with SueG doing the deed, but she didn't want to know ahead of time. She wanted it done and then she wanted me to call her and give her a code word so she knew the job was completed. We giggled our way through several code words, using humor as our way of dealing with the sad situation. We never really came up with a code word, but it was understood. She left out the cat carrier with a note with a picture of Pidgin so SueG wouldn't get the wrong cat. SueG decided today was the day.

All night long in my dreams the song, "Heartless" played. This morning I was hearing the song in my head. I started singing aloud when it hit me. I tried to tune out what was about to happen. I met SueG and we headed to Kelly's. I turned on the radio to hear "Jesus, will you forgive me? Will you understand?" I cursed, turned the station, and got, "So don't be sad, cause, two out of three ain't bad." I turned off the radio.

My involvement ended with handing over the key and pointing out Kelly's apartment. SueG did the rest. She arrived back at my house with tears in her eyes. She said it was because she was allergic to cats. I didn't believe her, but I let it go. She is my friend. She did this for me because I am her friend. I did it for Kelly because she is my friend. We left a silly note on Kelly's door and decided not to tell her while she was at work. We hope all will be okay...for all of us.

Poolside Dessert created by the kids

On Friday nights we go out to dinner with Kelly and my friend Jyoti and her daughter, Sarina. We usually try to go to this pizza place down on the beach, but lately, it has gotten a tad pricey when you add drinks to the pizza and salad order. This Friday Kelly and I ordered the pizza and picked it up, bringing it back to my house to enjoy.

The weather was beautiful and so we all sat poolside. Kelly supplied alcohol beverages for the adults and sodas for the children. We consumed our large tossed salad with pizza cheese and our delicious greasy, gooey cheese pizza while we all gossiped about people that weren't there. At some point after the meal, Kelly and I began musing about something sweet. The girls jumped up and offered to see what was available.

Several minutes later Darcy and Sarina returned with a menu and a tray of samples. We were to peruse the menu, and if we were interested, we could taste any of the samples on the tray. Of course, we dug right in, although somewhat hesitantly. I had a Rainbow Delight which consisted of a spoonful of vanilla frosting with sprinkles. The samples were nicely displayed and were quite tasty.

There was the Cherry Whip which was a spoonful of whipped cream, sprinkles, and a cherry. The Chocolate Delight was crushed cookies and chocolate morsels, and the Gilt (which we took to mean guilt) Free Ice Cream was really whipped cream with sprinkles. I'm not sure what the Honey Sprinkle Surprise consisted of, but Jyoti had that and gave it rave reviews.

Of course, the husband came home about this time and ranted about the mess in the kitchen (where Madison was still preparing the delectables), but the girls sent him out to finish off the pizza poolside with us. He did do this and the girls actually did clean up the mess...I think. By that time I was full of grease, cheese, liquor, and sugar. All I wanted was the bathroom and bed!

Loving.....

My new Chef Mate mesh strainer!

When we remodeled our kitchen years ago we bought a new sink and garbage disposal. The disposal came with a rubber piece that fit down into the hole leading into the depths of the disposal. Most rubber pieces that I have had in the past were limber enough that food particles and such just flowed through the little rubber wings into the disposal. Our rubber piece did not do this. Our little rubber wings refused to budge and we had to shove our food particles down past the wings so that the disposal could do its job.

I tried to purchase another rubber piece but to no avail. The only way to get one of these rubber pieces is to purchase a new garbage disposal. I had no need for that. So I cut down the wings of my rubber piece in hopes that would do the trick. It didn't. It worked enough to get by, but every time I had to shove down the food another tick went up in my blood pressure. I lived with this for years until I cut down the rubber piece some more.

I happened to gripe about this to a friend of mine while she was staying with us. A few days later she sent me two Chef Mate mesh strainers that fit right into the drain to catch the food. She uses them at her own home, but only because she doesn't have a disposal. I didn't think it was what I wanted, but I was willing to try it out. Whoo Hoo! How this thing has changed my life. The strainer catches all of my food, and then I just turn it upside down and dump it into the disposal or into the trash! Problem solved. I can't tell you how happy I am about my new toy.

Thank you, Sharon, thank you!

I've seen it all today....

I work out each morning (okay, I try to work out each morning) at the Wellness Center affiliated with the large hospital in my area. The center is on the hospital grounds and above the center are offices and labs. The center itself is broken into two parts. The first part is the wellness portion which takes up more than half the room and the second part is cardio rehabilitation. The two are divided for the most part by a wall partition but joined together by the track that circles the entire room.

Because I go to work out the same time each morning I have gotten to know, if only by sight, the people that work out at the same time I do. I don't recognize everyone, of course, but for the most part, I've seen these people at least once in my gym experience. There are always new people that appear, and when they continue coming each day they get added to that list of "gym people I know".

Today when I got to the gym a fire truck and an ambulance were parked at the front of the building. This isn't unusual as the center is tucked between a live-in rehab facility and the hospital. A woman on a stretcher was being loaded into the ambulance, and I said a little prayer as I walked by and into the center. Something along the lines of, "This could be me. Thank god I'm here today to work out, but it doesn't really matter because in the end, it can happen to anyone of us."

After my hour and a half of cardio, I went over to the weight machines and began huffing and puffing through my arm routine. This involves working my abs first and then moving down the line, along the track, working on each arm machine. After the arm machines, I do the leg machines, but I by-passed them and turned the corner to get to the last three arm machines. This position at these machines puts me looking out into the fitness room instead of looking out the back window as the first few machines do.

As I sat down and began puffing through this hideous machine I noticed that a woman was lying face up on the floor next to a bike. These are racing bikes that I try to avoid because there is no back on the seat and you are supposed to lean forward in a crouch to reach the handles. I only use these bikes when my cushy ones are occupied. There are three bikes in a row. The woman was at the end of the bike row. One of the nurses from the cardio rehab was on her knees taking the fallen woman's blood pressure on the woman's left side, and one of the fitness trainers was on the woman's right side talking to her. Two men were standing at her feet staring down at her.

I was surprised that I had not noticed this or heard any commotion about this, but then I realized that the machines I had been working on were facing the opposite direction. The thing that really got to me was the fact that no one appeared too interested in what was happening on the floor of the gym. The thing that REALLY got to me was another woman on the same row of bikes. She was sitting up nice and tall, riding away, her face staring up at the line of televisions above her as if nothing else was going on. As if there was not a woman lying next to her on the floor obviously in some sort of distress.

This is the same gym where I worked out next to Barack Obama during his campaign run for the presidency. The one question people asked me when they heard this was what I said to him. I tried to explain that no one bothered him while he was in the center. It was only when he exited the center that people approached him. As long as he was inside the fitness center doors he was safe from intrusion. I thought it was because he was there to work-out and people respected that. Now I'm not so sure.

Last week the fire alarm in the building went off. The doors automatically closed and lights began flashing and the alarm siren went off. Not one of us moved toward the exit leading outside. No one really even looked around, although my friend and I sniffed the air to see if we smelled smoke.

Now here I was watching this woman on the bike oblivious to the woman on the floor right next to her. This scene never changed through two sets each on the next three machines. I moved to the other side of the track to stretch out my hamstrings and quads and heard and saw the fire truck barreling down the street. A few seconds later the ambulance followed. A minute later the paramedics arrived inside the center and knelt down next to the woman.

The woman on the bike continued to ride, never once moving her head from the row of televisions above her. At some point, one of the fitness attendants spoke to her and asked her to get off the bike so that he could move the bikes to allow more room for the paramedics and eventually the stretcher. The woman got off of the bike, helped the attendant move the bike forward a few feet, and then, then SHE GOT BACK ON THE BIKE AND STARTED RIDING!

At that point I just laughed out loud. I walked around the track and spotted a group of my little elder lady friends chattering about the scene playing out a few feet away. I leaned into the group and spouted out some wisdom, "It could be anyone of us on that floor, but I certainly hope that we would get off the bike and show some respect."

I said good-bye, retrieved my keys, dumped my sweaty towel and exited the center walking past a fire truck and an ambulance just as I did on my way into the center earlier that morning. What a morning!

Too many mojitos

Saturday night I had tons of dreams, one right after the other, crazy and full of excitement as my dreams tend to be. The dreams took place in places of my past, and I figured this was because of my reminiscing through my old blogs, keepsakes and photos, and not because of the alcohol I had consumed that night.

One of the last dreams I had that I remembered took place in Pennsylvania at my friends' house. In the dream, I was walking people through it. I think I knew who the people were in the dream, but if I saw them I didn't remember them after awakening. I was taking them through my friends' Kim and Steph's, house and giving them a play by play of how well I knew this house. I pointed out things of interest and we then ended up in the upstairs hall bathroom which is right at the top of the stairs to the left of the master bedroom.

We crowed into the bathroom, and I said something about this bathroom bringing back lots of memories for me.

Me: "For example. Once when I was staying here with Kim and Steph they showed me where the towels were (I turn around and open the linen closet behind the door to show them) and then they told me to not freak out if some night I open this to get a towel and I see a black cat. Their cat Bo liked to hide out in the linen closet. Well, you can imagine what happened, right? One night I came in here to take a shower, opened the closet, and freaked out because there was the cat sitting on the towels, his eyes glowing in the dark."

Now the thing about all of this is that it really happened. That is a true story that my dream self was relating to these dream people. The cat's name was Bo and that is here sleeping below on the couch.

Back in my dream, my real self realized that this story that my dream self was telling these dream people was real and that there also another cat bathroom story that had really happened.

So then the other story came out, only I'm not sure my dream self related it out loud. I actually think that my real self just thought about that story in my head while in my dream. Are you following?

That story was about the time that I entered the bathroom in the middle of the night to use the toilet. I walked into the bathroom to find their other cat, Muffin, standing on top of the counter, leaning into the sink, her head turned upside to catch water drips from the faucet. She scared me to death.


That's Muffin below.


The rest of the dream involved me discussing how well I knew this house and at some point, I turned to find a staircase leading down into the basement.

In the dream, the staircase was in the same place that the bathtub should've been had we been in the real bathroom. In reality, the basement stairs are off the kitchen.

But this was a dream, so I descended the stairs halfway and peered into the basement, which looked like it did the last time I saw the basement in real time about two years ago. I said something about these stairs being new and then I came back into the bathroom and decided to lead the dream people into the next bathroom.

The next bathroom I took them into was the master bathroom, and I talk about the time I had to use the shower in the master bathroom because we had to be somewhere and all of us couldn't wait to take turns. In the dream, I leaned my head out of the hall bathroom to peer into the master bedroom and I saw my maternal grandparents lying sideways on the Smith's bed talking to one another.

At this point, my real self entered the dream as if directing and had a discussion along the lines of:

1. My grandparents are both dead.
2. My grandparents have never, ever, to my knowledge, been to the Smiths' house

My dream self and my real director self wondered why my grandparents were lying in someone else's bed, and my dream self decided that taking strangers into a room where two people were lying in bed having a discussion wasn't a good idea.

Then I woke up having no idea the answer to any of the questions this dream gave to me.

I did, however, have to go to the bathroom.

Married bliss

Me: "Hello?"

Tom: "Where are you?"

Me: "You didn't get my note?"

Tom: "What note?"

Me: "The note I left next to the note you left letting us know where you were going out this morning."

Tom: "Touche."

Okay, this conversation actually happened in my head. What really happened was this:

Me: "Hello?"

Tom: "Yes, where are you?"

Me: "You didn't get my note?"

Tom: "No. I'm not home."

Me: "The note I left next to the note you left letting us know where you are?"

Tom: "I don't know what you are talking about. I'm not even home. I didn't see any note. Where are you guys?"

Out of the mouths of my babes

Remember the horse incident with Darcy? If not, you can read it here. Remember the man who did not help in any way? Well, yesterday his daughter got tossed off a horse while riding with the same instructor. She was hurt worse than Darcy. An ambulance was called and she spent the night at our local children's hospital. Darcy was all over the situation.


Darcy: "I just called M's dad to ask how she was doing."

Me: "What did he say?"

Darcy: "He said she was going to be fine. She has 4 broken ribs and a saturated spleen."

From the archives

Saturday, September 7, 2002
In The Morning
My three year old woke me this morning--the one day that I sleep late. She came into my room and informed me of the following:

1. The goldfish had died and Daddy had flushed him down the toilet.
2. Her knee was hurting so Maddy got her a band-aid.
3. The light is shining outside so it is morning and time for me to get up.

She then climbed into my bed with her doll and her pacifier for "some lovin". We hugged, kissed and cuddled. She asked me if I wanted to hear a song. I did, so she began. She sang a song she wrote herself. She wrote it right then while singing.

 It was sort of what I call a "story song" along the lines of Kenny Rodgers, The Gambler or Conway Twitty's, 38 Special. Her song was about bad witches, Ariel the Mermaid, stepsisters and stepmothers, birthday cakes and more.

The song went on and on and finally developed into a full-blown stage show complete with costumes and talking inanimate objects. This I had to sit up to watch as it was played out at the foot of my bed. It didn't take long before I was on my feet and getting dressed.

If only every morning could be this magical!

Out of the mouths of someone else's babe

I'm teaching swimming lessons at my old place of employment for a free program called, Every Child a Swimmer. There are two instructors and five volunteer helpers for 16 kids in my first class.

Today was our second day. The children were all sitting lined up on the side of the pool. I went down the row and named each kid (with the help of the first letter in their names). When I was finished I asked:

Me: "Alright, who can remember my name?"

A sea of blank faces stared back at me.

Me: "It begins with the letter C."

Dylan: (raising his hand) "Oh, oh, I know. I know!"

Me: "Dylan! Great, Dylan, remembers my name. What is my name?"

Dylan: "Tinker Bell!"

I was Miss Tinker Bell the rest of the class.

Memories and Photos

A few years ago I bought a bunch of photo boxes and organized all my pictures. Every picture is put into a category that is typed on the front of the boxes, and inside I have written things regarding the categories on note cards. I think I did this because I pictured my own children one day looking through these boxes and wondering who these people were. Now they will have at least some idea.

For example one of the categories is titled, "Cara's Friends" and inside are pictures of my closest friends at the time. The first is Kelly and a description of my relationship with her. It reads, "Pictures of Kelly through the years. I met Kelly in the 2nd grade when I moved to Evansville, IN. Kelly was the first person to show me around the school. Kelly and I lost touch for a few years in college but hooked back up in the late 1980s. Kelly moved to Florida to live after Darcy was born."

Most of the photos since then are digital, but I have had several that are still on photo paper and so these pictures have gone into a drawer marked "Pictures" in my office. Recently I realized that that drawer is so full I can't even close it anymore so I decided to start filing those photos.
But that led to looking back through photos and so I felt the need to share. Especially with those people, I know who read my blog. I think I'll do a different person each week. Won't that be fun?
And since I used her as an example, I might as well start with her. She will be so honored.

Pictures of Kelly from my photo box:

This is Kelly and my brother, Rusty. I'm not sure, but I think Rusty is trying to be cool (as in hip) and Kelly is trying to look sexy. I think they both pull it off, don't you?

This picture was taken one day when Kelly and I were fooling around with a movie camera of my Dad's. We really didn't know how it worked, but we were bored and being the creative girls that we were we wrote an indie short.

Kelly took the hair out of her hairbrush and molded it into a mustache and then she wore my father's coat and hat and pretended to be my father. I don't really remember any of the film and unfortunately, we never did get to see it finished.

(I don't think there was any film in the camera, thank goodness because most of the pictures would have been of me giving my brother the finger and of him cursing me out. We thought we could get each other in trouble by filming the cruel things we said and did to each other.)

This picture was taken at my father's family farm. Kelly, my friend Sharon, and I had gone there to spend the weekend. Sharon was visiting Indiana from Florida and I guess we thought the farm would give her a taste of Indiana. As usual, Kelly got creative and we filmed her in many different outfits that she found through the house.

This is her by the well. I also have pictures of her in this outfit standing in a canoe in the middle of the pond recreating George Washington's famous pose. In this one, she is holding a fishing pole as if she were off to catch us all dinner.

This picture she might kill me for, but I think it hilarious! This was a satin sheet she found in the farm bedroom and put it on and talked in various accents. I especially love the contrast with the blue wall and the orange/yellow/green bedspread.

My girls will someday sift through these photos. Kelly won't need a description for her category since my girls know (and LOVE her), and when they see these pictures they won't need to know the story behind them because they will just chalk it up to Kelly being Kelly. But this is why we take photos....to bring back great memories.

From the email box.....

An email I received today and my responses:

Adults used to bore us to tears with their tedious diatribes about how hard things were for them growing up such as walking miles to school in the snow....uphill, no less. I remember thinking I would never do that when I got older and had kids, but now that I'm over the age of thirty I can't help myself......

• When I was a kid we didn't have the Internet. If we wanted to know something, we had to go to the library and look it up ourselves....in books! Yes, but today's books are not up to date for school information....not like the net.

• When I was a kid we didn't have email. We had to write letters to someone and then walk across the street to put it into a mailbox, and then it would take a week to get there. Stamps were 10 cents. I pictured this person around my age or younger, but the walking across the street to the mailbox? Hello? Mailbox right outside your house!

• When I was a kid Child Protection Services didn't care if our parents beat us. As a matter of fact, our parents' friends and neighbors also had permission to kick our butt. Nowhere was safe. So true there! We always watched out for ALL the neighborhood parents when we were doing something we shouldn't have been doing.

• When I was a kid there were no MP3 players or Napsters. If we wanted to steal music we had to tape it off the radio. Loved that one! I still have my tapes of music from WQYK, tapes of the University of Evansville basketball games, and even tapes of TV shows.

• When I was a kid we didn't have Caller ID or Call Waiting on our telephones. If the phone rang, it was a mystery. If you called someone and he was on the phone, guess what, you got a busy signal. We called back later. Yep, and prank-calling people was fun and we couldn't get caught!

• When I was a kid there was a little book called TV Guide and we had to get up to change the television channel. Some of us didn't even have cable but had rabbit ears instead. My kids still get up to change the channel because they LOSE the remote about every day.

• When I was a kid there was no Cartoon Network. The only time we got cartoons were on Saturday mornings. My god, how did our parents raise us?

Honestly, I can't take it

A conversation I had today in the public bathroom at the beach park:

I enter the bathroom to find a woman standing waiting for an open toilet. I look at her and then look at the three stalls, two closed, one open. The woman notices me staring at the open stall.

Women: "It is full of paper."

Me: "Term papers? Financial papers? Papers that will lead us to buried treasure?"

Women: "Toilet paper. It is full of toilet paper."

Me: "Full as in millions of rolls of toilet paper just hogging the stall?"

Women: "No, as in the toilet is full of paper."

Me: "And this is a problem because.....?"

Women: "Because the toilet is full of paper and therefore not clean, and women's bathroom etiquette says that I shall not go into that room. That I shall let the janitor take care of this."

Me: "Have you tried flushing it?"

Women: (mouth open aghast at my crassness) "Well, of course not!"

Me: "Well that is the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life! Do you think the toilet paper is going to reach up and bite you on the butt if you sit down in a toilet with some paper? Do you think if you flush it the paper will haunt you? Are you seriously this dumb?"

Okay, this conversation only occurred in my head.

It really went down like this: I entered the bathroom and stared at the open stall and then at the woman waiting in line. After she muttered those words, "It is full of paper" I looked at her, entered the room, saw two sheets of paper that didn't quite go down, put my foot on the flusher, flushed the toilet, and closed the door in her face.

Then I proceeded to sit to pee and discovered I was in a PAPERLESS toilet stall...

Happy Easter

Every holiday that wasn't Christmas my father would leave great candy, treats, and a card at our place at the table so that when we awoke on that holiday morning those yummies would be waiting for us. The cards were usually funny cards that made him laugh along with us as we read them. I have carried on this tradition of placemat yummies, but this is the first year that I thought my daughters would appreciate funny cards.

This is the one I gave my eldest:

Happy Easter Everyone!

ER nurses deserved more....

Starting off I want to say that I have yet to watch the final episode of ER as I'm saving it for a time that is right, but I have watched the hour show that was shown prior to the finale. That gave me my blog entry. Granted that was probably put together quite quickly, and without Michael Crichton, the writers might have been sad and boohooing, but I have to complain here for a minute.

I was not one of the original ER television viewers. I came along later. Since ER and Chicago Hope debuted the same time and both were set in Chicago I think I just ignored both of them figuring they would cancel each other out and be long gone before the end of the TV season. My mother watched both of them, told me they were good shows, and somewhere along the line, I began watching Chicago Hope. I loved it. I decided I would be dedicated to it. But then Mandy Patinkin got too big for his britches and the whining started, and I jumped into watching ER. I got hooked.

The show has always been a consistent, well-written television drama that kept me coming back each week. There were times I went to bed depressed at the storyline, but because the writers threw in humor the depressing scenes were manageable. The writers also made sure not to kill too many people in successive weeks. Even the so-called "baddies" in ER had tender sides to them that were shown in rare moments that made them likable. Once actors got bored with their roles and left the show, the producers still managed to find great actors to fill those empty spots. While I would lament the demise of one of my favorite characters (Dr. Green), I would learn to love his replacement. Just a great show all around.

Which brings me to my annoyance. So many regulars have come and gone on this show, and many of them returned this season as a tribute. All fine and dandy. I enjoyed seeing old favorites and several of the episodes brought tears to my eyes. But that hour show retrospect should have included those actors that have been on the show since the beginning. Yes, there were actually actors that started on the show and never left! Unfortunately, these actors were the nurses of the ER and were never given more of a role than that of cleaning up vomit and blood, calling for a surgeon, escorting people out of the trauma rooms, patting doctors on the backs, and just performing general emergency room procedures. We never saw them with their own storyline. We never saw their lives outside the ER. We never even knew if they had lives outside the ER. I never understood why those actors weren't given more of a storyline. Why the producers felt the need to keep them in the background.

There are three actors that come to mind:

1. Laura Ceron, who played Chuny Marquez, apparently didn't come on to ER until 1995, but she logged the third highest amount of episodes behind Noah Wyle and Laura Innes with 219 episodes. Chuny was the nurse who was always called to translate whenever a Spanish speaking patient came into the ER.
2. Deezer D who logged 188 episodes from 1994 to 2009 and comes in 5th place of most episodes acted. Deezer played nurse Malik McGrath who had a great sense of humor and brought the brawn when it was needed.
3. Yvette Freeman who played nurse Haleh Adams. Remember her? She was heavy, then she lost tons of weight (which was briefly mentioned in one show), and now she is heavy again. Yvette acted in 185 episodes from beginning to end.

I guarantee that these three actors had tons of memories and loads to say during that one hour reliving of ER. The fact that they were not included is an injustice that is flat out wrong. Instead, we had to listen to Steven Spielberg and actors that haven't been on the show since the mid-nineties. I just felt it was wrong. The three actors above did more than anyone and received less than anyone on that show.
They deserved mention. I'll miss them.

If wary of poop talk, please do not proceed....

Yesterday I had finished my workout at the gym, collected my phone and wallet from the locker, and headed into the bathroom stall to relieve myself of all the water I had consumed during my exercising. At the time I entered the stall I was also reading a text message from my sister-in-law, and knowing what I wanted to text back to her, I started to text her as I stood in the stall. Then I thought that perhaps this wasn't a good idea after all as I had already dropped my cell phone in the toilet once and this was one of those situations where that could become a likely scenario again as I also had keys, a wallet, and my water bottle in my hands.

As I unloaded all of my stuff, my cell phone clutched tightly in my hands, and proceeded to sit down on the toilet, the lady in the stall next to me dropped something on the floor. Whatever it was broke upon impact and it sounded quite like what my cell phone sounds like when dropped, and for one moment I thought I had done just that. Looking down I realized it wasn't a phone, and I made a comment like, "Oh, my. For a minute I thought that was mine."

I was relaying this story a few minutes later to my exercise buddy, SueG, and explaining that I had no idea what the object was on the floor. SueG replied that it was bad bathroom etiquette to talk while in the stall of a public bathroom. Apparently, and I was not aware of this, there is bathroom etiquette.

 I asked how she knew this and she replied, "The Internet." She could not tell me any more dos and don'ts, however, so I decided to google it when I got home.

Below is some of the bathroom etiquette for women that I was unaware of and my responses to it:

• Talking/socializing in the bathroom should not be done in the stalls unless both women are close friends. So if I run into someone that I know, say a client or a parent from my daughters' school, at a restaurant as we are walking into the bathroom I am not to talk to her? Do I ignore her completely or do I just smile, nod and hope that she knows bathroom etiquette? How close is close?


• Talking by the mirrors is permitted; however, this should be done in a low voice so that other occupants are able to complete their business without listening to endless strange chattering. I don't know about you, but I LOVE to hear endless strangers chattering while I'm in the stall. Some of my best blackmail schemes have come from there...


• Talking to strangers is forbidden unless they initiate it. So I should not mention that the lady about to exit the bathroom has a toilet paper tail stuck to the end of her shoe? Or that she didn't quite pull down the right side of her skirt? Or that she really should wash her hands before going back to work?


• It is unacceptable to use the public bathroom to perform a #2 function unless the bathroom is completely empty. Are you kidding me? First of all, this person obviously has a problem discussing bodily functions if she has to use kindergarten words to describe a bowel movement. Secondly, she is concerned about the odor for others? In a bathroom? I'm telling you right now, sister, a bathroom is the best place for those odors. If people have to poop while at a function, or a movie, or a restaurant and they aren't able to do so there will be odors wafting all around the room. If I have to go, I'm going to go, whether there are 30 women in a stall or not. If we must follow this kind of nonsense women are going to be performing #2s on the floor of storerooms in Kohl's Department Stores. (Tee hee...inside joke...don't ask)


• If performing a #2 in an empty bathroom, always flush while in progress and double flush at the end. Women do not poop, fart or produce un-womanly smells or sounds. If I'm doing this in an empty bathroom, who cares whether I make sounds or not? And women do fart and poop and their shit stinks!


• If there is a "present" in the toilet left by a previous occupant then that stall is considered "out of order" and should be left alone until a janitor solves the problem. This one always cracks me up when women enter and exit upon seeing what is in the toilet. As if they have never seen anything like it in their lives. Women's bathrooms are crowded enough without "out of order" stalls because somebody is afraid of flushing the toilet. Lift up your leg and flush the toilet with your foot if you are afraid of coming too close! But for god's sake don't wait for a janitor to solve the problem. Most janitors don't come until the end of the day!!


• Cellular telephone use is not permitted in the bathroom, but text messaging is okay. That is a huge relief to me as this all started out with me wanting to text, but I did answer my phone during the same trip as it was my daughters' school calling to report my youngest was sick. Guess I could have waited until they left a message, but guess what? I already had two missed calls from the same number and no messages were left! Which made me think this was important. And I enjoy spying on other phone conversations in the bathroom as it gives me something to do when I'm pooping and stinking up the place.


• Stalls must be checked for adequate supplies before performing any functions. Totally agree with that one, but not sure that it is an etiquette. More like a necessity especially in the above lady's world because asking the lady next door for a wad is verboten.

The above and more like it was found at http://www.icbe.org/ if you are interested in learning more.

No wonder I'm not losing weight

Yesterday I read an article about how to drop two pounds in a week to shed weight. It started out all rah, rah, rah with this author telling me I wouldn't have to give up fun foods or calorie count or measure my portions or spend my life at the gym. The key, she said, was to get my heart pounding.

First I was to follow the free, easy eating plan, and this was in green so that I should know that clicking on it would take me immediately to the free, easy eating plan. I did so and it opened a new window that said, "Service Temporarily Unavailable". Interesting. Does this mean I'm not to eat until the service is available? Tricky way to lose weight.

Next, I was to burn 500 calories a day for a total of 3,500 a week. To do this I should:

1. Walk 40 minutes at a level 8 on a hilly course.


2. Jog for 1 minute at a level 5, sprint 1 minute at a level 9 for 18 times.


3. Dance to a good beat for 72 minutes at a level 7.


4. Swim freestyle for 50 minutes at a level 8.


5. Do 2 minutes at a level 8, then 1 minute at a level 5 on the elliptical machine. Repeat that 20 times.

My first thought was what the hell do those levels mean? Other than the elliptical, which I do at a level 7 by punching in that number on the machine, I didn't know what the levels meant.

That may because I did skip over some of the article. When I went back through it I discovered that level 1 is watching TV and level 10 is installing a 100-pound plasma TV on the wall. Oh, that clears everything up. So is level 2 watching the TV while folding laundry? And level 10? Is that like measuring, nailing, eyeballing, lifting the 100 pound plasma screen (on the wall, not just sitting on an entertainment center), hanging it and eyeballing it? Because other than lifting the screen for what, maybe 50 seconds, I don't see the exertion in that. But then again I've never installed a 100 pound plasma screen before because I CAN'T AFFORD IT.

The article also listed activities to burn 250 calories and 100 calories and not one of those activities was lower then a level 4. So since I couldn't really afford a plasma screen to install it to get the idea of a level 10 I sat down and watched TV for 5 hours; 60 minutes at level 1, 10 minutes folding laundry (level 2?), 60 minutes at level 1, 20 minutes dusting the room (level 3?), 60 minutes at level 1, 30 minutes sweeping and mopping the floor, then 120 minutes at level 1. I don't know how many calories I burned, but it was enough that it made me hungry, and I went to the kitchen to replenish a few of those calories.

Why I shouldn't be left alone

Things that I thought about between 8:00 Am - 11:00 AM in order.

• Crap, why do I have to teach tonight in cold weather? What was I thinking when I volunteered for this nonsense?

• See Darcy isn't sucking her thumb right now. She is sleeping so peacefully and she smells so sleepy sweet. Oh, there goes the thumb. Why can't she stop that sucking? What have I done wrong? Is it wrong not to push her to stop?

• Why can't Madison get up in the morning? I really should spend more time with her. She is growing up and becoming a teenager with all her body parts growing and acne developing. Should I be doing more for her? Why can't we just go back to when she first arrived? I could start over and do a better job this time around.

• These kids really should eat breakfast before they go to school. Today is cream of wheat day. But Darcy doesn't like it and Madison isn't getting up in time. I should make eggs. But they don't really want eggs, and I don't really want to dirty up the kitchen.

• What should I blog about today? I'm annoyed at the Celebrity Apprentice this Sunday. I could write about that. What would I start with? Something like I told Susan about how I only watched it the first time when Gene Simmons was on it, and then I quit after he got booted. He didn't really get booted because he offered himself up. Trump hates that. I wonder if that is something you hate in business. Oh, for heaven's sake that is what is so annoying about Trump....he forgets this is a game and acts like things like this happen in the business world. Maybe Gene would see my blog and call me.

• I hate being the second car in the car line. Is that Jyoti behind me? We really should be carpooling. What a waste of gas. But if she drove in the morning than I wouldn't get to the gym because I would talk myself out of it and drink coffee instead.

• Pretty soon I will go by this place and not think of Kelly because she will be somewhere else. And not in her purple tracker. I'm proud of her for getting on the ball and getting things taken care of. She is moving up..... and not to a deluxe apartment in the sky.

• I wonder how many songs I could think of that I messed up the words to. That could be a blog subject. But I can't remember the songs. I could do this only if I heard the song on the radio and then I'd have to write it down for future blogging. That would take a long time. I'd forget by then.

• I knew the answer to that question! Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Wait until I tell Madison we got it right. I wonder how many pb and j sandwiches I've eaten in my life. When I was a kid we had peanut butter and fluff. I should call in and tell Big D and Bubba that one since they are talking about that jar of peanut butter mixed with jelly. We had that, but I don't remember what it tasted like. But we had that fluff. I have some in my refrigerator at home, I think. I should throw that out if we do. We haven't eaten it in over 6 months.

• What the hell are these people doing here? I know these people are not at the gym. It's Tuesday. The gym is quiet on Tuesdays. Jeez, these people must be here for doctor appointments. That's depressing. I should go home. I hate parking far away and these spaces are all taken up and it makes me mad enough to go home. Oh, there is a spot.

• OMG! This book by Denis Leary is hilarious. I'm trying not to laugh out loud, but I can't help it. I'm sure people are wondering why I'm snickering on the elliptical.

• This book is bringing back memories of my childhood. I could so write a response to some of the things he mentions about women in this book. Heck, I could have written this book too, but I'm not rich, famous or a comedian and can certainly not get away with the things he does. I don't think that this machine for my abs is really doing anything. I mean, seriously, my arms and hands are doing all of the work. They tell me to tighten my stomach muscles and use them to pull up the weight, but are these people serious? My stomach was made to house children. It kept two children warm, safe and fed, and when it was time to spit out those children it wasn't my stomach muscles doing the job. I think this is nuts and I'm going to move on to other machines. I'll go home and do sit-ups on the floor where my stomach muscles will have to do some pulling to get the upper half of my body up.

• That's it. I shouldn't push myself anymore. I should end exercising now so that I can still walk in the morning. I wonder if Roger is going to keep his appointment today with the back doctor.

• I wanted this cold front for a change of pace, and because I can wear clothes that hide my body, but this wind is a killer and it is damn COLD. I should be careful for what I wish for, huh?

• How come palm trees are so strong? How come they don't fall over in this wind? I can remember when driving down the road in Florida looking at palm trees was such a cool thing. I use to look up at those trees while on vacation and think how majestic those trees were just standing there in line along the road. Florida and the trees was the bomb. Now I hardly notice them. And the smell of Florida was always so beachy....so full of ocean scent. Do you only smell that when you are a tourist? Wonder if Kelly's ONE BLOCK FROM THE BEACH-BITCH apartment will still smell beachy after a while.

• I should call Kelly. But she is at work and I don't really have anything to talk about other than wondering if her apartment will smell beachy after a few months. And I'm almost home. And she is usually busy. And that isn't a good enough reason to interrupt her day. Not that that would stop me, but I'm almost home.

• I'm hungry already. That shouldn't be because I had oatmeal for breakfast. I should go home and have a cup of coffee. Or a cheese stick. I should eat cheese and then make coffee. It is too early for lunch.

• Why isn't the sun out today? I could take the cold if the sun was out. If the sun was out we would think it wasn't that cold. It would be a nice day. Should I get the mail? Nah, too cold.

• Why do all the diets want you to eat a cheese stick for a snack? How healthy can a big wad of salty mozzarella cheese be good for you? Alongside a handful of oily almonds? Better than an apple with peanut butter? I think I'll just eat lunch.

Boo Hoo our Piper is gone....

We had to give the dog back last night to her owners. We packed up her belongings and loaded her in her crate in the back of our van. We were expecting a real happy reunion scene when we arrived, maybe because Tom and I grew up on Lassie, but Piper was very nonchalant about being home. I like to think it was because she loved being with us and loved everything we did with her.

I told her family that when she refused to eat or drink and just moped around the house because she missed us so that they could call us to come and get her. And then they could just get another dog. They laughed, but they will see. That dog had a good life here at our house.

I dreamed about her last night. When I awoke this morning I expected to find her sitting by the bathroom door. Later this morning when I returned from taking one kid to school and the other to the doctor's office I expected her to come strolling in for a pat on the head. Boo Hoo. No Piper.

It was a good experience having her here. Everyone did well and we enjoyed having her. Problem is she spoiled me for any other dog. She didn't jump on people. She didn't bark when the door rang or someone entered the house. She didn't jump on the furniture. She didn't chew up things. She didn't try to run out of the house. If she happened to get outside she stood and looked around. The dog is a saint. She is perfect. I want HER for our dog.

Our neighbor recently lost her dog to cancer. I asked her if she would get another dog. She said not right away. Later I remembered that that is not what you ask people who have lost their dog. That is one of the pet peeves (no pun intended) of dog lovers; asking if they will replace their loved one as if that were possible. Well, now I understand that feeling. I miss our little Piper-for-a-week and no other dog will make me happy!

Third times a charm

Years ago I had another website where I blogged. Then while vacationing in Boston at my cousin's house blogger was introduced to me, and because it was easy and I could blog from anywhere in the world (because I travel so often) I left my old website. Recently I have begun to wonder about the older posts there, and wanting to preserve them I had my husband do his computer magic to find them. I am going to post some of them here time to time just like I did the things from my box of Keepsakes. This first post is quite relevant...


January 15, 2003
The 2nd Pregnancy StoryI awoke this morning and got ready to go to the gym. As I leaned over and picked up my shoes and socks, I walked backward and fell heavily upon my bed. The water in my bed sloshed and moved me side to side. For one moment I feared the worst, and then I remembered that once the worst had happened.

I was pregnant with my second child and about 5 weeks away from my due date. I crawled into bed one night next to my snoring, sleeping husband. I was not able to sleep, and so I propped myself up against my pillow and began to read a book. I read for about an hour, used the bathroom, and went to say goodnight to my daughter. As I was leaning over her bed to kiss her, I brushed my arm against my pajama bottoms. They were wet.

I went into my bathroom and turned on the light. The whole left side of my bottom was wet. My pajamas were soaked. My water had broken. I felt panic rise. It was too early. But wait! Why was the left side of my body wet? Why wasn't I wet between my legs? I rushed to find my What to Expect when Expecting book. It said there would be an odor. I took off my pajamas and sniffed. I smelled chlorinated water. I stopped and thought. This was worse than I expected. I woke my husband.

Me:  "I think my water just broke. I was reading and now the left side of my butt is wet, and it smells like chlorinated water instead of how it is supposed to smell, and it is way too early."

Tom: "What?"

Me: "WHAT? Were you not listening? My amniotic fluid doesn't smell right. It smells like chlorinated water. Like a pool..." 

I stopped. I leaned over my side of the bed and ran my hand over the sheets. It was dry. I straighten up. 

Me: "It was my water. I thought maybe for a minute that the water bed had leaked, but my sheets aren't wet. Should I call my doctor? I'm not having any contractions."

Tom: "It wasn't your water. You probably broke the water bed. Go back to bed." 

He rolled over.

Me: "How can the water bed be leaking? The bed isn't even wet." 

I snatched my end of the sheets and pulled them back. I ran my hands over the bed.

Tom: "You probably broke it at the seam."

I rubbed the seam of the mattress. It was wet. My water hadn't broken. I had sprung a leak in our water bed. I began to cry. Then I began to laugh. I laughed and laughed and cried and cried. 

Me: "I thought my water had broken. Can you believe that?" I rubbed the wet seam again. "How did the bed break? That is annoying."

Tom: "How did it break? It broke because you are always getting in and out of bed." He pulled the covers up over his shoulders. "Just go back to bed."

Me: "How? The bed is leaking!" I snickered.

Tom: "The bed is leaking on your side. My side is fine." He snuggled down further into his pillow and resumed his snoring.

I changed my clothes and bedded down with my daughter for the night, but not before documenting this event in my unborn child's diary. Together we had broken the water bed.
This story is exactly how I remembered except I left out the part about tasting the PJ bottoms. I could not understand how my amniotic fluid smelled like chlorine and so I just put the damn thing in my mouth and sucked it. It tasted like pool water. I think that is when I panicked and woke up Tom.

Other things in this story I do not recall is the bed leaking at the seam. I thought that this was the time we replaced the water bed, but now I'm not so sure. I do know that at some point in time we had to replace our water bed, which Tom did by going to a water bed store and getting one. It was not like the last bed and was so miserable that we had to sleep sideways in the bed for several days while waiting for another bed to be shipped to us.

About two years ago we sprung a leak in this water bed. Again it was me discovering wetness after having just read in bed. Again it was on my side of the bed. Again Tom did not care and went right to sleep. Again I slept with Madison.

The next morning we took off the sheets, unzipped the bed, and discovered that the bed had been leaking slowly from a pinhole leak in the seam. The nasty thing was that the leak had obviously been there for some time because the bed's protective cover was black with mold. My friend happened to be at my house right after this and she was horrified that we had been sleeping in the mold. She is a "green" woman through and through and she ranted and raved about the side effects of mold and told me of horrific things that could happen such as body parts falling off of my face.

I was determined to clean this protective cover as it cost a fortune to replace so I took it to the local do it yourself cleaners. I had the cover in a black plastic garbage bag. When I went into the cleaners there was only one woman in there. Now sometimes there is a worker who washes and folds your laundry for a small fortune or who makes change and such. This woman was sitting in a chair by the door and she began offering up advice to me the moment I walked into the door.

Woman: "Is that a comforter you got there?"
Me: "Sort of."
Woman: "What size is it? Because the size determines the machine. That machine you are looking at is a big machine. What size is that comforter?"
Me: "It's a king."
Woman: "Oh, a king comforter will need a big machine, but that machine costs more than that machine right next to it."
Me: "Well, it isn't a comforter exactly so it isn't quite as big. Maybe...."
Woman: "What do you mean it isn't a comforter? You said it was a king comforter. How can it be a king, but not a comforter? Is it a sheet?"

At this point, I just wanted to yell, "Shut-up lady and let me be!", but of course, I didn't do this and because she seemed so helpful I decided to launch into my tale of the broken water bed seam and the moldy cover. She listened and "oohed" and "aahed" in all the right places and when I finished she pondered what would be my best solution. We both decided that the big machine, which cost $3.50, would be good because the cover wouldn't be so tightly jammed in and the water could flow and blah, blah, blah.

I began getting the machine ready while my new friend kept offering more advice.

Woman: "Now I don't think you should use more than a cup of bleach. More than that it will eat holes in your cover."
Me: "Hmmmmm"
Woman: "And don't put the bleach in first. That goes in on a different cycle."
Me: "Well, this is a special case so I'm going to dump everything in at one time."
Woman: "Well, I think that isn't expected. There is a separate place for detergent and for bleach. A cup is all you need. "

My head was pounding from all of her jabbering. I was planning on dumping in this cover, pouring tons of bleach into the machine and crossing my fingers the mold would wash right out. I was dreading having to sit there and listen to her talk through all the cycles, and I was sure she was going to ignore the fact that I had brought a book. By this time I was annoyed at all the helpful advice from all of these helpful people regarding my moldy king size cover.

The woman was at my side by this time still going on and on about how I should proceed. I bent over, opened the plastic bag and began to pull out my black spotted cover. The woman took one look at the cover, covered her mouth and nose and shrieked, "OH MY GOD! THE MOLD! I CAN'T BE BREATHING THAT STUFF!" And before I could stand back up, she turned in a circle, ran out the door of the cleaners and took off running down the sidewalk. I never saw her again.

I washed the cover the way I wanted with tons of bleach twice. The mold came right out. Tom repaired the tiny hole in the bed, we layered the bed with shower curtains in case of any more leaks, put back on the cover and have slept quite peacefully for the last two years.

Until this past week when after reading I got up out of bed and went into the bathroom to use the toilet. While sitting there I felt some wetness and discovered that the shoulder and sleeve of my pajamas where wet on the right side. Having been there and done that, I immediately felt the water bed and right on my side of the bed was wetness. Tom suggested a towel and went back to sleep as it wasn't on his side of the bed. I spent the night in Darcy's bed in her room next to the dog's crate, where I didn't sleep a wink. The next day Tom found another pin size hole in the seam, but no mold, and he repaired it.

I have decided that I shall not read in bed anymore, I shall agree the next time Tom suggests we change sides of the bed to avoid boredom, I shall learn to jump out of the bed from the middle so I don't sit anywhere near the seam, and I shall wear a bathing suit to bed.

Spring Break

Summing up the week of Spring Break, here are some of the highlights:

• I had my good friend, her 5-month-old baby, and her two and a half-year-old visit for 4 days.
• My Mother was in the hospital.
• We received a dog to dog-sit for a week.
• My water bed sprung a leak on my side of the bed (for the 3rd time!). I slept in Darcy's bed in her room which was next to the dog's crate. The dog did not sleep and kept banging on the crate door to get out. I did not sleep much of the night for worrying about the dog.
• My Mother got out of the hospital.
• Every time I walked the dog she pooped.
• My friend and her kids left. My two nephews took their place.
• We enjoyed the beach three times. Two of those times the Gulf actually had high waves that we could ride.
• I celebrated my father-in-law's 79th birthday.
• I drank lots of beer and ate quite a bit of seafood.
• I fell in love with the dog, despite the walks, the poop, and the chunks of hair on my floor.
• My Father-in-law ended up in the hospital.
• I dropped my cell phone in the toilet. I dried it out and it works just fine. I don't know if it took any pictures while at the bottom of the toilet.
• I lost in basketball brackets.
• I got on the eldest daughter until she finally finished a school project that should have been done last week.
• I didn't fall for anymore Toby Keith April Fools Day nonsense.
• I got minimal sleep and I never exercised. I now have big bags under the eyes....or maybe those were always there.

One more day and then the vacation is over. Did it really ever begin?