Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Nice Car, Bondo.
As I rounded the corner, I saw it parked there, in front of her house. The color of a swimming pool bottom, your beloved mustang; her state of disrepair being responsible for your moniker. 1967, if I recall correctly? Or that is what year she would be, if you had one today. This much I know for certain. There you were, perched on the hood; leaned back against the windshield and eating a soft-serve ice cream cone from The Igloo Drive In. The new guy in my proverbial small town.

The latest disposable of hers. I didn't like you. You were cocky and arrogant, with your lifeguard's mentality and physique; the one I admired but would die before admitting to. Breezing in, with your fast car and your DJ's music collection; the new cop's kid. Upsetting the balance that was in place. Distracting her, when she had the only set of wheels amongst us and our only distraction was cruising main street.

She tossed us the keys, told us to have fun. Balance restored. The 'bad girl' who had breezed into town before you and stayed. She had other plans. Plans that included you, temporarily. A couple weeks later it was done. She passed you off as better suited to someone else. That someone else she named as me. I scoffed, didn't want her leftovers.

Summer saw us employed at the gas station, which became the local hangout, for our group. You became something other than that guy with the car. I was intrigued. A trip to Essie's after work, with Brian and Char coming to fetch us and bring us home. Steamy windows in the backseat as we kissed.

We dated. We became an item. Six months later you walked into the kitchen as I was making lunch for my Dad. You told me you wanted to see other people. I turned, knife in hand, and calmly asked if we could do this later. Maintained my composure.

The next six months I moped, driving my Mom crazy. Telling her I was just dumped by the only guy I would ever love. The guy I was supposed to marry. Maudlin. Juvenile. Teen aged angst. I finally got over it, and you. Life went on.

Sometimes life was hard. Sometimes I made it harder. Sometimes the decisions I made had my family questioning my sanity. Sometimes I didn't so much as make decisions, but watched indecision run my life.

Laundry beckoned. This single mom, at the Laundromat, washing clothes for the week. Weary. My kid, playing in the play area.

There you were. Blue eyes, smiling. Tentative conversation, not too much to say. Asking the usual questions of each other, expecting the usual responses. Both on the tail end of involved.

Laundry became the highlight instead of the tedium. Good days were measured by the times that I chose the right day. Unless she was there with you, then it was awkward. The number of times she happened to be there trickled to none.

I got brave and called you. Made small talk and then said goodbye. You got brave and called me back fifteen minutes later. We went out that night, my parents happened to have the boy. I happened to stay overnight. We did the morning-after dance, neither wanting too much of anything; or at least saying so.

We became 'friends'. We haven't been apart since. Nearly twenty years have passed since that ice cream cone, and now you make tentative plans about what kind of car to restore with our teenaged son. The one you call your own and have raised as such.

I love you more today, Bondo.

*Steen asked a very long time ago about The Leester and I, for some history. This is my version of those events. His would probably go something like this: I dunno, lemme ask Dee.*

**Am very good at answering inquiries in a timely and orderly fashion.**

Saturday, February 24, 2007
What's My Excuse?
A day in the life of.....


Me: Oldilocks, have you been soaking your teeth overnight like I told you to?

Oldilocks: What?

Me: Have you been taking your teeth out at night and soaking them so that they are clean?

Oldilocks: I've never soaked my teeth before, ever. ('I've never' is the standard response to everything. Chicken breasts? Never had them. A shower? Never take one. Clean laundry? Never heard of it. Driven home, on the same road daily? Never EVER been down this road before.)

Me: Yes honey, you have. You know the tablets we got you? In the box? Called polident?

Oldilocks: I tried, but those tablets taste AWFUL!

Me, aghast: No, no, no, no! You don't chew the tablets, you soak your teeth in a cup of water with one of the tablets!

Obviously, I've changed my method of instruction to include repeated demonstration.


On the other hand....


The number of times I was required to run the same load of dishes through the dishwasher before I figured out that I needed to remove the outer plastic wrapper from the Electrasol tablet? The one so clearly marked 'Remove plastic wrapper from tablet before placing in main soap dispenser'?


For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why the plastic wasn't just dissolving, like it always had. (duh, these are tabs, not the gelpaks.)


She has dementia. What is my excuse?

Thursday, February 22, 2007
The Good and The Really Phoque-ing Annoying...
The Good: When I see a glimpse of the Oldilocks I fell in love with and she is able to regale me with tales of her history, a smile on her face and a spring in her step.

The Bad: When the dementia kicks in and she does shit like refuse to go get her hair done by "Some Foreigner".

The Bad: My husbands springtime obsession with his car, in getting ready for the Spring Break Nationals car audio competition.

The Good: When I see that he has a dead battery from leaving the ignition turned on while phoque-ing around with his stereo (and forgetting to turn the key off) and his boss at work is forced to give him a boost. (The justice, she is poetic.)

The Good: The sound of a gaggle of teen aged boys, playing a four-way head to head game of something or other on XBox in the prodigies room and knowing that my kid has made some really great friends. Also good, the fact that these other kids are respectful, nice kids who enjoy being here and are comfortable enough in my home to be here after school every day, instead of me wondering what my son is up to.

The Bad: My grocery bill, in keeping them in after school snacks. (I'm really not complaining though, because it is everything I want, as a Mom. I strive to be the family with the house they gather at. It makes me feel accomplished and successful.)

The Bad: How I cant seem to keep the edge out of my voice sometimes when I am on the phone with my Mom, because I know hearing me vent can be very hard on her spirit. Which is kind, loving, giving and thoughtful. I can be a HUGE pain in the ass, and I know when shit spews out of my mouth, it is a burden on her. Yet I cant seem to control it.

The Good: How she never judges me for it, keeps me real in speaking the truth, even when I DON'T want to hear it and mostly; how much better I ALWAYS feel after talking to her, even though I am not going to admit it to her. What are you, phoque-ing crazy??

The Good: Golf. Need I say more?

The Bad: That I wont be doing any this weekend.

And before you all think I have forgotten, which I haven't, the letter of the day is 'H'.

My favorite H thing? My friend....well, H; for the sake of her anonymity. She was indeed my first friend here in Florida and is the true epitome of the Southern Belle. She is sweet and funny and kind. She is a Mother, a Wife, a Daughter and Granddaughter and excels at all of them. She is fiercely loyal and caring. She is a big enough person to admit her errors and make them the time she pulled the ultimate in rebellion and ran off and married her childhood boyfriend, without the approval of wellllll..anyone (and much to the chagrin of those who loved her, but cut her some slack, she was very young and very foolhardy, at the time). Some wouldn't have recovered so eloquently from the fallout, but she climbed back out of the trenches, somewhat broken and bruised; and made life better for her and her son. She is a wonderful person and although I don't see her nearly as often as I would choose, I love her dearly and think of her often. She is the kind of friend that you can go months without hearing from and then pick up as though not a day has passed. I feel blessed to have her in my corner.

I love you H. *muah*

And the very, very best? The comments left by my beloved family and friends after my last post. When I ask them not to follow-up, they rally around me and just let me know they are here when I need them, even if they skirt the subject with silliness. I love you guys.

P.S. If I am forced to see anything else about Britney Spears or Anna Nicole Smith, I will gladly gouge my eyes out with a phoque-ing butter knife. Anna Nicole Smith makes me very sad and I alternate between wanting to hug Britney and bitch-slap her. The poor kid.

That is all. BUH-BYE for now.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007
The Diagnosis Is In:
Oldilocks is old. Huh...imagine that.

Seriously though, there is nothing that can be done to alleviate that which ails her aside from surgery. And? You guessed it. We wont be entertaining any such thing, for the obvious reasons. What we will do, however, is make sure that her days, however numbered, are as comfortable and content as can be managed.

God Bless sugar cookies, tea, Turner Classic movies, the fireplace, Woman's Day and Good Housekeeping magazines. For now. And if He sees fit, that she improve and can go do things she is wont to do. Things like having her hair done and having a lunch and movie date.

I love her to pieces and I hope and pray her suffering is next to none, that she is able to weather this stage of her life gracefully and with some pleasure.

No sooner do I type that I get a quick dousing of the unforgiving cold that is dementia when I am informed by someone close to her that I never do anything for her, never speak to her, never spend any time with her, never take care of her; according to her. These are the things she says, after I wait on her hand and foot. Some days it gets to be a heavy thing to carry and I have to remind myself not to take it personally, when my knee-jerk reaction is to think that if she is so miserable here perhaps she would like a 10x10 room in a nursing home more.

*Give me strength too, please.


A typical Tuesday Morning conversation at the household of The Family G:

Me: **Dude! Your sock drawer is HURTING. I think it is time we do some sock shopping for you.
Hubs: My sock drawer sox.
Me: It really does. And they are rocking nothing off of anyone. They are so holy they should go to church.
Hubs: Darn socks!

A few minutes later:

Me: I just found eight pairs of your socks in the sock drawer belonging to our son.
Hubs: Darn him, too!


In other news, I am currently having something of a struggle regarding ***self-image and consequently, my perspective is skewed. Please forgive the sporadic postings while I pull my head out of my ass. Or as some would more eloquently put it, get my act together.

Maybe it is Winter Doldrums.


*I don't need any follow-up phone calls checking up on my mental state and well being, dear family and friends. I am just venting and would rather not verbalize that which might make me less than pleasant to talk to. Thank you for your understanding.

**I totally do use this word as much as I convey here, even though it is dorky and I am not thirteen. I love the word Dude. By the way...where is my car?

***I reiterate *1.0 and again thank you again for your understanding.


Friday, February 16, 2007
And On The Seventh Day, He Rested.
The Leester and I decided that having a three-car garage and barely being able to park one car in it because of the random CRAP (by my definition, a car audio/fiberglass/upholstery work shop by his) that is in there is a problem. So, in our infinite wisdom, we decided to clear out some of the random crap not directly related to his current project by putting it up on Craigslist.

The Good News?

God is very interested in the 15 gallons of wall paint that we have sitting in the garage in three, 5 gallon pails. So much so that we have been offered a tax deduction receipt if we will so kindly donate it to a church that is moving to a new building and needs a face lift.

The Leester's suggestion?

Tell God we are Jewish.

See, I so much as type it and I laugh to the point that tears stream down my face because it is just SO funny on SO many levels. (All of them wrong, I know.) But the dude seriously cracks. my. shit. up.

Am I going to go to hell for saying God and shit in the same post?

Anyway...all joking aside, God gets the paint. For free. That is just some mojo you don't want to mess with. Assuming that the church in question holds the same core beliefs held by Christians, of course. Cause no other god is getting free paint from me. That is just how I roll.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Who In Their Right Mind...
Who in their right mind writes a post at this hour?? Good thing I never claimed to be in my right mind then, isn't it?

Life continues at a hectic pace, and here I sit at 11:16 this Valentines day, just decompressing. For those curious, this one passes like all the ones preceding it, without fanfare. Surprised? either.

One day I will get him trained. Trained to not attempt to convince me that this day is a Colombian conspiracy in order to validate drug running flights with the pretense of the delivery of the multitudes of roses being flown in for American saps buying into the hullabaloo that dictates they should gift them to their wives, girlfriends and significant others on this Hallmark day.

And one day, his sex life will improve drastically. Until then? February 14th is no different than February 13th or February 15th.

Yeah...alright then.

This week has not been fun; Oldilocks is in the hospital, currently awaiting an MRI (after countless other tests, x-rays, CT-Scans etc.). I brought her in on Monday after two weeks of debilitating pain that has seen her rocking back and forth in a chair, unable to do anything else. The Doctors worry that she may have a compression fracture of the spine, due to old age. Her poor old bones. I feel very sad for her and quite helpless to make this better for her. Keep your fingers crossed for me, please? I am her least favorite person right now, as I forced her to seek medical attention...for the second time in no less than 50 years. If she could summon them, lightening bolts would have stricken me dead by now.

I have this effect on people.

Am cool like that.

I hope everyone has had a wonderful lovey day...and I will be in touch soon.

Huge superficial kisses and hugs and whatever else is in keeping with this holiday.

This one that I hate with the heat of a thousand fiery suns.


Friday, February 09, 2007
And that's all I have to say about that. I leave you with this, which I <3 really alot.

Yes, I know it is just a black screen but it was either that or a redirect with a bunch of advertisements. Enjoy. Have a good weekend.

Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Well Hello, Tuesday's Child!
Yesterday was a complete wipe (Pun intended? You know me by now, you decide!) due to the other members of this household all being down and out with a stomach bug, but we have survived. Shew. Good thing I make a mean homemade chicken noodle soup, isn't it?

Today's letter is 'G'...and without further ado, I will share my favorite thing beginning with this letter. Can anyone guess? Anyone? no one saw that coming. Speaking of, it's been two weeks since I have done any golfing. Damn company and other various obligations, always getting in the way...sheesh!

Must go rectify that, off to book a tee time. Before I go though, can you guess whose favorite Super Bowl commercial this is?


Sunday, February 04, 2007
Sunshine And Roses
Apparently my Mom and Dad get a real kick out of this commercial and it keeps them in stitches. Their claim? That it reminds them of me.

.....and not because of quitting smoking. Just me. Oddly enough, I don't really disagree with them!

Sunshine and roses, I tell you, sunshine and roses. Want to be my friend?

*insert maniacal laughter here*

Friday, February 02, 2007
F, You Too
Miss me? The week has been busy, busy, with mucho running around. The Prodigy has required lab work, in anticipation of his next appointment with the pediatric (I know, seems weird that he sees a Doctor with the word pediatric in his title when The Prodigy is bigger than a lot of fully grown men) endocrinologist and since we have moved to the back forty (seriously, easily an hour commute (factoring in morning traffic, since they were fasting labs and it would have been cruel to make him wait till it was convenient for me) either way to the stupid lab our insurance requires us to go to) it is a trip that I cant just dash out and make. Imagine how pleased I was when that very lab called me informing me they had done the wrong tests and could I please bring him back the following day. Yeah. So wipe out two mornings, right there. Factor in the old ladies demands and I haven't had much free time.

So, here we are. Happy Friday and a great big 'F' to you.

I had initially thought to rave about my beloved FAMILY, namely my spouse, but since he saw fit to start my day by pissing me off prior to 6:30 this morning (after yet ANOTHER call before 5:00 in the morning that was a wrong number, when the person on the dialing end didn't really believe it was a wrong number and I was forced to stand there and explain to her, through my half asleep haze, all the while Oldilocks is on the extension in her bedroom rapidly repeating "Hello, hello, hello, hello" over. and. over., thereby slowing the whole process and ensuring that I was wide awake at 4:45am and didn't doze off again until after my. beloved. F-ing. husbands. alarm. clock. went. off.)and I am feeling rather stabby right now; this post sure isn't going to be about him. So there is that.

Probably best that I leave that F'er right out of this post altogether from here on...

I could speak about my FRIENDS, but I am not so great in that department, since mostly I like to be left alone and am quite comfortable maintaining said friendships via this here fancy-schmancy-magic-box that I am typing on.

Let me see....FOOD? Nah, I suppose not.

FLORIDA. I hear the sun still shines here today, although not in my portion of the State of that very claim to fame. There is only room for ONE ray of F'ing sunshine in my immediate vicinity and that, my friends, would be me.

And on that note? Have a nice F'ing weekend. See you Monday, if not before.