Weekend's After Thoughts

Baby Olivia turned a year old on Thursday.   

These days if I blink twice, another year has passed by.

Les gave a little party for her on Friday night, in true “Mary Richards” fashion.  Did you ever watch Mary Tyler Moore?   Every time Mary threw a party, something always happened.  Friday night, Les was LesLee Tyler Moore.   Her boyfriend grilled a smorgasbord of great food…pork chops, burgers, hot dogs, shish kabobs…he was one grilling dude!   Just about the time the food was ready, (a good two hours of hard labor) the power went out, as the sun was sinking below the horizon.    A house full of hungry kids and guests, suddenly with no lights, and no air, and the power was out for a good while.   

Les was a trouper….she has learned well how to be a trouper with four children…she fixed plates for the kids and put them outside on the sidewalk for the last few remaining minutes of dusk, along with Baby Olivia, high chair and all, and partied on!    

Peppy has been pretty sick…spent a few days in the dogspital.   He had surgery at the first of the week to remove a skin lesion that was most likely cancerous.   Afterwards, the stress of the surgery was a bit much for him and he wouldn’t eat, got severely dehydrated and his sugar soared to over 600.   He was very, very sick Wednesday morning.   He was hooked up to an IV and given fluids and antibiotics.   He finally ate a little on the third day.   But he was still feeling pretty poorly.   He’s doing fairly well now, though I think the whole process took a big toll on him.    

I haven’t been very happy with this group of vets.   There are 4 of them, and three of them are quite young.   They sent Peppy home with the IV port in his forearm…leg…whatever dogs have up front.  By the time we got home and realized that under the bandage was a port, their office was closed, and the answering service didn’t pick up.   The next morning when I finally got to talk to someone, they tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, but for some finicky chick (me) to take it out, it was a big deal.   And he bled a lot.   I have to tell you, dog blood on my hands first thing in the morning (or any time) is pretty gross.

I’m battling with myself over vacation this summer.   I’ve been adamant that I’m not going to wavering that I might go...but for how long?   Things got messed up a few months ago because two families are trying to plan things in two consecutive weeks.   I can’t do both, and since Ole Boy gets much less time with his family than I do with mine, I couldn’t demand we stick with the original plan.   Then, the main day for my side of the family was changed from Sunday to Monday, which pretty much ensured I couldn’t go.   And there’s Peppy…who will have to be kenneled.   So…still battling.  

 

I went to visit Miss Lettie this weekend.   She is now in a nursing home.   On my last update on her, I mentioned she was in the hospital.   From there, she went to rehab.   While in rehab, she fell and broke her hip, and now…she’s in her new home.   In my opinion, though she’d never admit it, she’s happier there with people who check on her several times a day as opposed to being in her little apartment day after day after day all by herself. 

 

I’ve enjoyed my three day weekend, and having a four day work week ain’t bad either!  I hope your week is a peaceful one.

Changing Your Name Won't Change Who You Are...

·    If I were to tattoo green scales on my skin, split my tongue, put implants in my forehead, and change my name to Lizard-Chick, I still wouldn’t be a lizard.

·    If I were to surgically alter my face so that my features resembled a feline, paint on whiskers, and change my name to Kitty, I still wouldn’t be a cat.

·    If I were to walk around on all fours, barking, lapping water from a bowl and eating Alpo, I still wouldn’t be a dog.

·    If I were to load up on male hormones, get a deeper voice and lose my boobs (which would be a feat unto itself), make the late night TV talk circuit and change my name to Chaz, I still wouldn’t be a man. 

To borrow lyrics from The Kinks:

Girls will be boys, and boys will be girls.

It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world…

To quote the Bible:

Matthew 24:11 "And many false prophets will arise, and will mislead many."

Matthew 24:6-7"And you will be hearing of wars and rumors of wars; see that you are not frightened, for those things must take place, but that is not yet the end." For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and in various places there will be famines and earthquakes."

II Timothy 3:1-5,7 "But realize this, that in the last days difficult times will come.  For men will be lovers of self, lovers of money, boastful, arrogant, disobedient to their parents, ungrateful, unholy, unloving, unforgiving, malicious gossips, without self-control, brutal, haters of good, treacherous, reckless, conceited, lovers of pleasure rather than lovers of god; holding to a form of godliness, although they have denied its power; always learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth."

Related Post:   That's Not God

Rough Friday and Politics

My Friday started around 3 a.m. when Peppy decided to bark.   He wasn’t happy on the bed or off the bed.   He didn’t want to go outside, and he didn’t want a treat.   He just barked intermittently, enough so that I only dozed once between 3 and 5:30, and he promptly woke me up again.

Then, a police officer followed me into my parking lot at work and gave me a ticket for an expired tag.   I can’t believe I forgot to do that!  By the way, there is no way an officer can say “Have a nice day” after writing you a ticket and NOT sound sarcastic.   I called the courthouse to see how much that would be, and *IF* I get the tag ($109.00) the ticket will ONLY be $135.00.  :::eyeroll:::

Other than that, it’s a beautiful, sunny day, and I am off tomorrow.  J

I don’t talk about politics much because I’m AADD and it’s boring.   Does anyone really know the truth anyway?   Can anyone even agree what the truth is?   I’m not talking Biblical truth, just politics in general.

What (almost) tickles me is people who spout their opinion as fact, then go on a personal attack when asked to prove, or at least show some back up for what they put out there.   I try not to throw my opinions out too far unless I’m in friendly territory.   Having said that, I admit I do have strong opinions, and the closer we get to the election, I may have something to say.   In my blog.   I might even spout opinion as fact.  With comments open so that anyone can disagree.  

I’ve noticed, though, that people don’t like to comment negatively, they just click the “dislike” button.  Heh.   That’s what it’s there for!

I’m ready to go home and hit the recliner for a while.   Watch me some Leroy Jethro, DiNozzo, Ziva David, McGee, and Abby.  Y’all know what I’m talking about!

Monday Musings

·    I shouldn’t have static electricity on a drizzily day, but I do.   I hate clingy clothes.   Glad I have my travel size Static Guard.  Only, it smells like mustard.  Ew.

·    “Drizzily” is not a word according to spell check.  Obviously, the spell-check-tech never lived in the South.

·    I forgot my cell phone.   That’s OK, I’d probably only use it for wrong numbers.  Speaking of which, it occurred to me that if the man had not blocked his number, or told me what was going on when he called me, the whole text mess wouldn’t have happened.

·    There’s a man whose name I come across every now and again at work.   I never see his name without thinking of how ugly he has treated everyone I know who has had to deal with him.

·    I do not understand why parents let their children run completely wild in public.   The instance fresh in my mind is yesterday’s meal where four children ran squealing and giggling all over the restaurant where I was having lunch.   Two sets of parents continued to talk and ignore the kids.   When they left, the kids ran circles around them, squealing the whole time.   Thankfully, I was there only about 15 minutes before they left.   What a long 15 minutes.

·    My weekend was full of kids and way too short.   Last week was way-yonder too long, especially since I had to do Hump Day twice.

·    I epiphanized last night.  

·    I made “epiphanized” up, but it just kinda fits the revelation.  For as muddled as I have been, I am beginning to see things a little clearer.

·    I got my hair cut.   Too short.   Way too short.   I told her what I wanted, and the length I wanted when dry, and she…well, you know.   I like it better than my longish stringy ‘do I had, but it’s going to take some getting used to.

·    In reference to my hair color experience, the color has been just fine.   That was the ONLY thing “just fine” with that fiasco; which, in retrospect, is important.   However, the above-mentioned hair dresser informed me that my hair was being damaged by permanent hair color, and to go to DEMI-permanent, not semi- and not permanent.   Am I the only one who’d never heard the term “Demi-permanent?”

·    I’ve gotten some very interesting comments on my tornado entry, and I’ve come across other comments as well.   I’d like to gather some of those comments and comments made to my blog, and repost them.

·    I am the master procrastinator.  A great starter, a lousy finisher.  If you’ve noticed the hiatus in my photo challenge (the only challenge, of course, is my actually doing it), then welcome to my daily life.   I will finish the ABC’s (Lord willing).

Just Call Me Home Wrecker

About a month ago, my daughter (Les) got a new phone.   She gave me her number, which I promptly plugged into my phone.  

Three or so weeks ago, I got a phone call from a guy who blocked his number.  The conversation went something like this:

Me:	Hello?
Him:	Who is this?
Me:	Who did you call?
Him:	I don’t know.
Me:	Well, you blocked your number and called my phone, so I’m assuming you know who you were calling.
Him:	No, this number was on my caller ID.
Me:	Well, I don’t know who you are.

Last week, I sent a text to Les which said, “Call me NOW!”   No response from her.   Not once have I gotten a response from her on that phone, it’s been a great source of irritation for me.

Today, I get a text from her number, and it said, “Who is this?  You told me to call you.”   I responded, “Duh, a week ago!”    She texted back, “But who is this?”    Thinking she’s either being silly or being dumb (because she didn’t recognize my number and obviously didn’t have it saved on her new phone.)  I type back, “If you don’t know me by now, you will never, never, never know me.   But I know you!”  She wrote back, “Give me a hint.”  So I continue to play the game:

Me:	I know your peoples, and they know me.
Her:	I’m lost
Me:	You luv me.  At least you say you do.
Her:	I haven’t figured out who you are, but at least I now know my boyfriend is talking to another girl. Thank you.

I could not figure out where her head was!  Why would she think her boyfriend was calling a chick from her phone?   And why didn’t she recognize my number?  I’ve only had it for 15 years!

I started calling Les, both her cell, which I’d been texting, and her home.  No answer.  I even called her boyfriend, thinking the poor thing was catching it by now.  No answer there, either.   It also occurred to me that she was playing a joke on me…she does that sometimes. About an hour later, I finally reached her.  I told her that it upset me a little with that last text, because I didn’t know if she was really upset or not, and then she wouldn’t answer.

Les:	What text?
Me:	All those texts you’ve been sending me!

I’m sure you, Gentle Reader, have already figured out that I was not texting with my daughter.   But not me.   *I* was the one being dumb.  

I had been calling this number for a month, no one answers.   I have also sent a few texts.   The owner of the phone has to think I’m nuts…after calling me and asking me who I was, then to get about 100 phone calls from my number since then.

I’m probably a home-wrecker!  I’m sure he’s catching heat.   After Les convinced me that indeed I did have the wrong number keyed in, I sent one last text trying to explain that my daughter had gotten a new phone, and that I’d saved it in my phone wrong.   I can only hope she believed me.  He probably hopes so, too.  

Rebuilding Alabama...The Heart of Dixie

I wrote a poem about April 27, 2011, the day tornadoes

roared through Alabama killing well over 200 people. 

I don't know what to call this entry...a tribute....in honor of...

So I'll just share what's on my heart.

The Voice in the Storm

The Heart of Sweet Dixie, fragmented and torn,

Where worry and grief on souls are now worn,

On the heels of the storms lie heartache and sorrows,

But Faith gives assurance for recovered tomorrows.

Though bruised and in pieces, together we’re one,

Hand in hand in the darkness, while we wait for the sun.

Shambles and ruin can’t take away hope

When compassion reaches out to help others cope.

Who is the Voice that hushes the wind,

And Who, with His word, starts hearts to mend?

His hand never leaves us in storms such as these,

He calms the wind to a mere gentle breeze.

In the darkest moment dawn opens its eye,

A new hope awakens a fresh power supply.

With the brink of the day new strength appears,

As the hand of the Son dries up the tears.

Last weekend, Ole Boy and I visited Hackleburg and Phil Campbell, two cities that sustained overwhelming damage in the tornadoes of April 27.   No photos I took can properly depict the true devastation.

Notice the tree...no limbs, leaves or bark.   Both sides of the street for miles was totally wiped out.   I didn't want to be disrespectful and snap pictures of people without their knowledge or permission.  Therefore, some things I saw I did not photograph, though I almost wish now that I did.  Not the people living in tents, but the people helping each other, just pitching in and getting a hard job done. 

So much destruction.

But here's the good news.    This picture was taken by Rick Phillips,

who was kind enough to allow me to post it here.

This was the last thing I saw before leaving Phil Campbell.

Yes...It is in God that we trust.

Imagine My Disappointment...

All day long yesterday I thought it was Wednesday.   I didn’t call Mom yesterday morning because Wednesday is when she volunteers at the nursing home after the ladies prayer meeting.   I made Wednesday choices over and over on Tuesday, including last night!   I have to do Hump Day all over again.

Tornadoes and Tests...

Yesterday, I took my final.   I was stressed about the test and mad at the world when I woke up, and my day wasn’t about to get any better.

My teacher was kind enough to let me take the test on Monday instead of last Thursday, for which I was extremely grateful.  I had to join another one of her classes to take it (it was a computerized exam.)   When I got seated and was preparing ready to start, she came over to me and told me that I could review the answers before I submitted, and could make any changes.   Yay!

Not so much.

It was 50 multiple choice questions, and it was a tough test…I didn’t even have a clue what the first three questions meant.   I just picked the best answer I could by process of elimination.   Lucky for me, I didn’t skip them thinking I’d choose upon review.    Within the first 10 questions, I had 13 exception errors (some computer glitch), and had to keep restarting the test.   That will add to a stress factor, I promise you.

Finally, about about question 11, the errors stopped, and I whizzed through the test going on my “first impression” answers.   Got to the end of the test, and…there was no way to review.  No way to go back.  No changes to be made.  I had to submit as I had answered them on the first go-through.   I made an 86, and I was mad.    I finished before everyone else (of course!  I'd was just making an initial run-through, I THOUGHT), so I didn’t want to start whining to the teacher that “I couldn’t make any changes” in front of her other class.   So I took the 86, managed to smile at her as I left, and when back to my office and whined to all of them.   I should be able to still pull an A for the class.   I’d had better.   Since I’ve started these classes, I haven’t made below an A, and I really want to keep it that way.

Question to anyone who’s willing to comment an answer…

I have some pictures of the tornado damage in Hackleburg and Phil Campbell.   I wanted to write a poem or a tribute…something….  Out of respect, I didn’t take any pictures of people…I didn’t take pictures of the tents in which they are now residing…I didn’t shoot the church that had nothing but the frame standing as the church people met in a tent nearby.   But I did get some shots of some major damage, which amounts to peoples’ lives lying in a pile of rubble. Maybe not their lives, but what they’d worked for all their lives.   My question:   Would it be tacky or heartless on my part, to post pictures with my tribute?   I’d really like some honest opinions.

Bad Advertising and Procrastination

If you’re poor like me thrifty and color your own hair, don’t waste your time, money or effort on Nice’n Easy Color Blend FOAM by Clairol.  Don’t believe those badvertisements!! 

The stuff doesn’t foam well, doesn’t go on well, and doesn’t rinse out well.   Instead of a nice little tube of conditioner, it’s just a little packet, which was not enough to adequately condition, not to mention how hard it is to open a little packet in the shower when you’re wet and soapy.  And it stinks.  The jury is still out on the color itself.   If I don’t forget I’ll let you know.

Fountain at UNA

Completely unrelated and in the “who really cares” category, I haven’t forgotten my ABC’s of my town.   The weekend after the storms, I had no desire to take pretty picturesI procrastinated with the second half of my class and really got into a crunch with finishing a project and preparing for my final, which is Monday.   I intend to continue that little “challenge” next week.  

In my head, words are forming for a poem about the tornadoes that caused such destruction in the south.   If it comes to fruition, I will post it.

♪♪♫ I Like Dreamin' ♫♪♪

I am not a real Clooney fan, nor do I have asthma.

In my dream last night, I was on a date with George Clooney. While were walking about town, and I started having an asthma attack. In the middle of my apologizing to him about the noise I was making while I was breathing, I woke up and realized I had been snoring!

Monday's Musings

Dear Self:

You do NOT have to have the remote to change the TV Channel.

Dear Joy Behar:

While I was hunting for the remote, I was subjected to about 30 seconds of your show.   In that time frame, you proved, yet again, that you are ignorant.

Dear Kathy Griffin:

Shut up.

Dear Obama:

You were almost funny in your correspondent’s dinner speech.   BTW, Michelle looked kinda pretty.   I’ll be really glad when you are both unelected.

Dear Eyes:

Please quit changing on me.   I can’t get far enough from the monitor to see clearly and still type!

Dear Glasses:

You really aren’t working for me anymore.

Dear Co-Worker:

If you aren’t going to do it, please don’t say you will.

To Whom It May Concern:

I have a short memory and an even shorter attention span.

Dear America:
Don't be deceived by a birth certificate and a well timed death announcement.

Dear America:

Please do not forget Alabama in your prayers.