“E” IS FOR EXERCISING

 I know some of you are going to be shocked when I tell you this, given the state of my body but….I don’t exercise.  Not one bit.  Nada.  Zip.  Zilch. Unless you can count these activities as exercise:

I have actually come up with the Lazy Person’s  Exercise.  It is perfect for those of us that have to loll in bed in the morning before rolling out.  I call it, “Psycocybernetic Exercise”.  Years ago I read a book called, “Psychocybernetics” which was all about visualizing what you want so by the time you actually do it, it has become second nature and you will succeed because you have done it so many times in your mind that your body thinks you have already accomplished it.

So…I got to thinking why couldn’t I just visualize exercising?  Would my body actually think it was working out?  Well, much to my surprise, as I visualized doing crunches and leg lifts and all the things I used to do when I was much younger and thinner, my body actually moved those muscles!!!!  I kid you not.  My problem is I have AADD and it is just a work out to keep focused.  So before I write my best selling book, “The Lazy Person’s Guide To Exercise”, I need to get some cold, hard data.

So starting tomorrow, (you always start something new either on a Monday or the beginning of the month and should the beginning of the month fall on a Monday, well success is practically guaranteed!  Tho, if I remember correctly, the first day of 2000 fell on a Monday and I was going to change my life…hmmm, I must have been on Hawaii time) I am going to measure myself, (mercy, that is going to be a shock to my self-esteem) and each morning in June, I am going to do my Psycho Exercises (my nickname for them…how appropro, eh?) and see if I can really tighten my body just by using my brain!!!!   I might as well as I don’t seem to be using it for anything else!

Anyone want to join me in this experiment?  I will dedicate my book to you and take you on my book tour as an example of how it works.  We could be on Dr. Oz together!  Oprah might come to my house to interview me….oh, crap….that would mean I would have to clean…wonder if I can Psycho Clean my house???

To Psycho Exercise you need to lay down on your back (in bed works just fine) and clear your mind (mine is clear for a nanosecond).  Visualize your self as you would be in real time.  I like to start out from my neck and work down because that is how I used to do it back when I actually did it!  You should feel your neck muscles moving and if you don’t then you are not concentrating enough (or I am just crazy, which may be the case and then I will have to change the name of my best seller to, “The Crazy Person’s Guide To Fitness”).  I visualize myself doing arm curls and my biceps really contract but the best one is when I “do” crunches…my stomach contracts with each visual crunch!  Now, if your muscle is moving it has got to be doing some good, eh?

I may have come up with a billion dollar idea!  I could own franchises of Visual Gyms and have my own line of work out wear!!!  I would call it, “The Emperor’s Clothing Line” (if you have no idea why….Google the book, “The Emperor’s New Clothing”).

And just think, all of this fame and fortune just because I was too lazy to exercise the normal way.  HAH!   Normal is soooo overrated!

Let me know if you are joining me and I will have make us T-Shirts to wear while we “Visualasize”…dang, I am even adding new words to the culture of the world.  I am gooooood.

“D” IS FOR DIETING

I HATE DIETING.

Okay, let me clarify that…I hate the thought of dieting.

I hate telling myself “no”.  That is going to have to be a whole post in and of itself!

I have tried many diets over the years as I am sure most of you have.  Remember these?

THE GRAPEFRUIT DIET (too much citrus fruit causes too much time spent in bathroom)

THE LIQUID PROTEIN DIET (the taste of that stuff was horrid and people were dying from it…but were they thin when they died?)

THE CABBAGE SOUP DIET (the smell of that was enough to make me lose my appetite)

THE LOW FAT DIET (if it’s low fat, I can eat as much as I want, right?)

THE THINK YOURSELF THIN DIET (obviously I can’t think hard enough to make that one happen)

THE ATKINS DIET (I cannot eat that much meat and still pay my bills)

BLOOD TYPE DIET ( I was thinking of doing this except I don’t know my blood type!)

THE HALLELUJAH DIET ( I did a modification of this diet and was a vegetarian for four years and lost some weight but was done in by a billboard showing a frosty mug of A&W root beer, fries and coneys.  I caved and the rest is history…damn billboard)

WEIGHT WATCHERS (the only thing I lost was money and my self-esteem)

OVEREATERS ANNONYMOUS (I went to this when I weighed less than 135, heard the sad stories of late night food runs, lives ruined by overeating,  and that for some folks the sugar from food turns into alcohol and they become “sugar drunks”.  I would be so depressed after a meeting, I would have to stop at a fast-food joint just to cheer myself up!)

TOPS (nice group of ladies but the humiliation of no loss week after week was too great!)

JUST SAY NO TO SUGAR DIET (had some success giving up sugar until one day I decided to celebrate my weight loss with a blizzard….)

NO BREAD, NO POTATOES (my husband will tell you that I tried to stab him with a large, serrated bread knife when I wanted some bread and he would not let me have the bread…I remember it differently….it was a small, plastic butter knife.  It was right before we were having a Bible study at our house and I was crazy desperate for some bread and he was trying to help me stay strong and I turned on him, he got mad, threw the bread at me, I got mad and threw the bread back and locked myself in the bathroom, swearing never to eat again and won’t he be sorry when I die of starvation!  Ya, well you can imagine how spiritual THAT Bible study was that night!  And in case you are wondering….I did not starve to death….)

THE MASTER CLEANSE DIET ( A few years ago, I took five days and sequestered myself in my in-laws camper, no car, no money, took only lemon juice, maple syrup, cayenne pepper, some whole grain bread, my juicer, carrots, some peanut butter, lettuce, cheese and almonds.  I spent a good 20 hours a day sleeping as I only brought my Bible and a notebook for something to do!  I never left the camper as I was too weak to walk very far!  I did manage to lose 30# by drinking the concoction over the course of a few months but then my work scheduled changed and I was in town from 8:30am to past midnight and had to either bring a cooler of stuff or eat out and it was just easier to eat out….hence the weight came back on plus brought some of its friends)

I am sure I have been on many more diets and have ultimately failed at each and every one but I am no quitter so I am making up my own diet and I just know I will have success with it…perhaps you have heard of it…

THE “I DON’T GIVE A *&^% DIET”

Yup, I’m sure this one will work as it has worked in other areas of my life!

LITTLE BIT UGLY (PART 2)

LOLA FINDS PIN

LOLA THINKS OF FUN THINGS TO DO WITH PIN

BABY SINGS THE BLUES

HAPPY JACK

Now where did I leave off???

Oh yes, THE RECEPTION

Get to the reception and of course there is the perfunctory wait for the bridal party to get to the joint and so the grands do what all children do….they play with whatever is available.  In this case, it was the table decorations…those little glass stones that are the size and shape of Junior Mints.

The 2yr old has a fixation with putting things in her mouth and even tho I told her that the stones DO NOT go into our mouth, she had to assert her independence.  She took a stone and slowly rubbed it against her cheeks and then down to her chin and back up to her cheek, all the while looking at me with a bemused expression.  I was not born yesterday and have played this “game” with her before and it always ends the same.  POP….into her mouth goes the stone.

I had warned her that if she put a stone into her mouth, the mean Grandma was going to take all the stones away, which I did.  Not a happy child.

Spies fake silverware and decides that the serrated knife might be nice to stick down her throat and promptly grabs her knife and mine and like a circus side show performer, attempts to swallow the knife.  Bad Grandma whisks both knives away and then she brings out her favorite tactic…..THE FACE.

THE FACE is where the mouth turns down and the bottom lip comes out and the eyes are downcast…..THE FACE works on Grumpa but not on the meanest Grandma in the world.  Plus, she had an audience of older folks who melt like butter for THE FACE.

Knowing that explosive tears and great wounded sobs will follow next, I quickly offer her my spoon to gag herself on.  In an instant, THE FACE turns into SUNSHINE SMILE and the other folks at the table burst into amazed laughter.  I am immune as I once worked with hundreds of preschoolers during my 10 years with the county in their daycare centers.  Okay, that’s a lie…..after all I am a Grandma!

Maybe some punch will help pass the time….what was I thinking?  I got each child a glass of the  pink punch being careful to only fill each cup a third full.  How much of a mess can a tiny bit of punch make?

I had forgotten the Law of Toddlers….whereby the amount of mess made by a toddler is determined not by the materials given but by the degree of embarrassment said mess will cause parent.   I turned to look at Baba and when my head swung back, there was a pink pool all over the end of the table, dripping down onto the creamy white and pink tulle dress and onto the floor (which was right next to the serving tables….of course..it’s part of the Law of Toddlers).  My already frazzled nerves shorted out and I made a mad dash to the kitchen to see if I could procure a towel to sop up the pink flood.

Now I must add that during this whole time, Baba had wanted me to go and take a photo of the wedding cake on her cell phone.  She was insistent that she get a photo of the cake before it was cut (the wedding party had not even gotten there yet, so I think I had time…..) so as I am sopping up the spilled punch, she is shoving her cell phone at me telling me which buttons to push…Oh she pushed some buttons, all right!  I can think of only one other time in my life that I snapped at her but every nerve in my body was twitching and sparking and her pushing that phone at me made me SNAP.

After I had gotten the mess all cleaned up, I apologized.  I do not know how she got photos of the cake, but she did!  Talk about strong-willed…I see where my granddaughter gets it from!

Finally the wedding party arrives!  Glory be!  Let’s eat…..

But no….we are to play a trivia game….the emcee will ask each table to guess the answer to a question about the bride and groom….table after table goes by….I am now beyond all help.  I snap a selfie…it frightens me…I send it to FB.

Emcee comes by our table and calls out a question.  I yell out the answer (the questions had been asked at one of the bride’s showers so I knew the answer).  Emcee debates if I have given  a detailed enough answer.  Takes one look at my face and says, “OK folks, you can go and eat”.  Smart, smart man.

Looking over the food, I see nothing that 2yr old will eat.  Pile plate with food for me and 4yr old.  Whip out PB&J sandwich and chips for 2yr old.  Try to put some lasagna on 4yr old’s plate….they did not let the lasagna “set” so it is one long cheese blob that refuses to be cut.  PB&J for 4 yr. old.

Baby decides it’s time to  sing the blues and Grumpa takes baby outside.

Grandma’s face has started to twitch…Grandma forgot to take meds before leaving house.  Blood pressure must be sky high….can hear blood pumping in ears….

Stroke, Grandma, Stroke

Helpers start to clear food from serving tables.  Grumpa has not eaten so Grandma limps out to find him and sad baby.

Grandma sits outside with baby who is only happy if Grandma is standing.  Now Grandma is singing the blues.

Hear the wedding speeches starting….when did weddings start having whole bridal party tell stories of bride and groom?  What happened to a toast from the best man and that was it?  Grandma longs for the “good old days”.

Grandma can hold baby no longer so she hobbles back in holding baby which now needs a diaper change.

Grandma takes baby and a diaper and wet wipes and tries to find somewhere to change stinky baby.  Spies an empty room. Where to change baby?   Debates if it is wrong to put stinky baby on table since she neglected to bring something to lie stinky baby on.  The welfare of others wins out and Grandma sees a couple of stacked chairs and plops baby on seat of chair.  Baby barely fits and bumps head each time Grandma wipes stinky bottom goo.  Baby good to go.  Grandma sets baby on carpeted floor and runs out of room to men’s room next door to pitch stinky diaper.  Baby is happy on floor so Grandma sits down and takes off boots…ahhhhh.

Happy Grandma.

What is that face baby is making?  OH NO!  Baby is making stinky goo again.  No, baby, no….not again.

Grandma wishes the Rapture would happen so she would not have to put back on her boots, struggle to get off floor, (Hear Grandma grunt), lift baby, stumble back to table, grab another diaper,  carry baby back to room and repeat the above process.  It is just too much for Grandma to handle.

Hear stranger with young child waiting for bathroom.  Lean way over and call out to stranger, “Hey, can you help me?”   Woman gingerly comes to doorway, sees poor Grandma sitting on floor with boots off and is willing to go find Grumpa to come and bring diaper and rescue Grandma.  Inexplicably she leaves young daughter with Grandma….must figure Grandma would never get boots on before she got back and so child will not be abducted.  Returns with diaper bag but no Grumpa.

See Grandma cry.

Change, once again, stinky diaper.  Grandma contemplates just laying on floor until someone finds her but baby is not happy anymore.

By now Grandma has decided that she is calling it a day, and if daughter wants children to stay for dance, she will have to just keep them there herself.  Grandma is not even sure she has the strength to drive home.  May just die in car.

Back at the table, while waiting for Grumpa to return from where ever he went, the 2 yr. old has discovered a very long, very sharp, corsage pin in the bottom of her bouquet. Her face lights up like a lamp was shone on it!

Grandma reacts quickly and a trip to the ER is avoided. But one of Grandma’s mammary appendages has been injured in the process.

Ouch, Grandma, Ouch

Grumpa returns and Grandma tells him that she has had it and is leaving with or without him.  Grumpa says he will take 4yr old and find daughter to find out what she wants to do.  Good idea, Grumpa!

5 minutes go by

Baby fussy

10 minutes go by

Baby really fussy

15 minutes go by

Grandma is in a state of shock as she sees Grumpa playing his accordion and the Emcee announces it’s time for some live music.

Last time anyone will see Grumpa alive…

Grandma decides to leave with children.  Grumpa can hitch a ride home with daughter.

Grumpa makes it to vehicle just as it is being loaded up.

Run, Grumpa, Run

And this is where we are going to end for now!  Grandma is wiped out from working all night and must take a nap!

Please join me later this weekend for Part 3 of JUST A LITTLE BIT UGLY

But I will leave you with photos from the wedding and reception……

 

 

“C” IS FOR CELL PHONE

I am sure I can not be the only person over the age of 30 who cannot figure out more than how to answer your cell (and I do have issues with that at times…see below) and how to send a photo (videos are a hit-n-miss) and how to play Words With Friends and to check FB.  That is pretty much the extent of my iPhone 4s knowledge.

So let’s talk cell phones, shall we?

When my phone rings there is no certainty that I will answer it because of the following:

I have the volume turned off.  I do not like to have my phone ringing or pinging while I am working as it makes my elderly client say, “What is that noise”?  “Do you hear that?”  “Where is that noise coming from”?   “Do you hear that noise”?  And if I have to confess to her that it is my cell phone, I get the Serbian “Stink-Eye”.  You do not want to get the Serbian Stink-Eye as I believe there might be a curse attached to it.  As-a-matter-of-fact, I am sure of it.  The Serbian Stink-Eye causes your butt to get bigger!  All this time I thought it was getting bigger because I did nothing but sit on it and it was just swollen…now, I’m not so sure……..

I am driving.  I am not ashamed to proclaim to the world that I can not drive and talk on my cell phone at the same time.  I can not drive and chew gum.  I can not drive and listen to Rock and Roll as the quicker the tempo, the faster I drive!   I have driven while I was eating but have since learned the hard way not to do that either (countless food particles fall onto my chest and do I think to look down after eating or before I get out of the car?  Nay, Nay)

I have somehow turned my ringer off.  I went WEEKS with it off, thinking it was broke before Scott finally showed me where the ringer ON/OFF button was on the side of my phone….I had my 3G iPhone for two years and never knew it had that button).

You left a message.  I do not know how to set up my phone so it shows on my screen that I have a voice message.  IF I ever remember to check, I have to go and pull up the keyboard and hold the #1 down until it says it is calling my voice mail.  If you have ever left me a message, please forgive me for not getting back to you as I rarely remember to check it.

My grandkids have been playing on my phone.  They are so smart that they can erase just about anything on our phones and we do NOT have a clue as to how to get them back.  Does anyone have a techie 5 year old I could borrow for a couple of days so they can show me how to use my phone?  I will feed them well and give them lots of money (treats work well for my 4 yr old grandson but money is what rings 2yr old Lola’s bell….geez, I knew she reminded me of someone…..)

I am napping.  I nap a lot.  A lot.  Basically everyday.  For hours.  (Then I wonder at 3am why in the heck I can’t get to sleep….it’s an awful Catch 22)

I am housecleaning.  Ok, that’s a lie.  You know I never clean my house!

I have left my phone at home.  Am I the only one that once I remember I left my phone at home, I start to panic….WHAT IF my car has problems?  WHAT IF I see a drunk driver and I can’t call it in (I have done that before so if you are drinking and driving or texting and driving and swerving all over the road, I WILL narc on you!)  WHAT IF there is an accident and I am the only one on the scene?  WHAT IF I get a flat tire and have no way to call AAA?   I try to calm myself down by telling myself that there was a time long ago, in another life, that I did NOT have a cell phone and I am here today so I must have gotten along pretty well without it!   BUT WHAT IF everyone passes me by,  assuming that I have a cell phone and have called for help?????  By the time I get done with all my worrying, I have arrived at my destination safe and sound.  And by the time it is time to go home, I have forgotten all about my cell phone and drive home blissfully unaware that DANGER could be lurking at each mile post…..

My cell has no bars or dots or whatever it uses to show me how much connection I have to a cell tower (that’s what those little bars show, right????)  How can I be sitting in my Lazy Arse chair and have four bars one second and only one bar the next?   I have not moved a muscle.  And why does my connection get stuck on the searching mode when it was ok just a minute ago?  And why does my connection all of a sudden die?  These are the things I do not understand and that make me eat chocolate even when I am not craving it.

I won’t even begin to talk about the fools who are on their cell phones EVERYWHERE and I do mean EVERYWHERE.  That I shall save for another rant post!!!!

Make sure to leave a comment as I get some of my best rants from comments you guys leave!!!!!

Clueless in Culver,

Robyn

“B” IS FOR BATHROOM STALLS

Can we talk about a subject that just “pisses” me off?  It is one of my pet pee-ves.  I am tired of all the crap.

Sorry, I just couldn’t resist a few puns….

So let’s get down and dirty about the bathroom stall crisis.

I swear the man who designed airplane seats also had the contract to design bathroom stalls.  Can I get an “Amen”?

Again, something made for the general public (I was going to say pubic but I controlled myself) but only a child can fit in them.  But who lets their child go in there alone? And what if you have more than one kid and no one to help you so you all have to cram into that space which is approximately the size of a telephone booth (note to you younger readers who are wondering what the heck is a telephone booth…it was a little square glass shelter that housed a land-line phone that you had to put actual money in it to use and had a bi-fold glass door that was either broken and never shut all the way or you got squished trying to shut it and if you didn’t hit it in the right place, you were in danger of never getting out of it….Google it.).   What do you ladies do when you have a baby and a couple of toddlers and they have to go potty RIGHT NOW????  Hang the baby on the hook on the back of the door?  Lay it on the tank cover?  And how on earth do YOU pee?

Speaking of kids in bathrooms, has not every woman experienced the unnerving event of having some strange child look under the door or stall wall at you while you are trying to go to the bathroom.  I am always so afraid they will catch me in mid-stream hovering over the toilet with my skirt grasped tightly around my waist and my fat legs shaking with exertion trying to squat above the disease ridden, VD carrying, killer spider hiding, herpes spreading, pee splattered, toilet seat.  Talk about scarred for life! And it ain’t gonna be too pleasant for the kid, either….

And don’t you just love it when the toilet has the automatic flush?  It flushes three times while you are using it sending germ laden water up into your nether regions but finally when you are done and soaked, it doesn’t flush and you have to do all sorts of weird movements to try to make it flush.  I think there are hidden cameras and the security guards on the night shift all sit around and place bets on which lady is the weirdest.

Why do the stalls have three inch gaps in the enclosure?  It’s not like we could ever slip thru one if we were to get locked in.  How many times have you had eye contact while you were indisposed with someone waiting to use the stall?  Peek-a-boo, I see you!

I used to be a real wimp in the stall.  Couldn’t go if someone else was in the next stall until someone flushed or ran the water or made some kind of noise and then it was a race to see which would get done first, me or the sound.  I don’t know how many times I never finished because the sound stopped and people were waiting for my stall.  I always admired those women who could just go in and release the Jordan River.

Speaking of releases…..oh ya, you know where I am going with this now don’t you? Why is it that when you release your water, the other end has to be heard as well?  I didn’t have gas when I started, so the loud backfire at the end startles the crap out of me.  Not to mention, embarrasses the heck out of me….and if there is no one waiting for my stall, I will stay in there until the other person leaves so they can’t identify me afterwards as we are passing in the store or worse, standing in the check-out together. Sometimes, tho, if there are groups of people waiting for stalls, you gotta just suck it up and slink out and not look at anyone and get out as fast as you can.  I abandon my cart and make a run for the exit as there are too many witnesses to chance staying.

But the worst scenario is the one where there is just one toilet and the person before you has stunk up the joint and you pray that no one else will come in and think that you made that awful smell.  I try to think of some clever remark exonerating myself from guilt but the more I deny it was me, the more guilty I look.  Someone would make a billion dollars if they could come up with a purse-size odor neutralizer.  Every woman in the world would carry one (men seem to think it’s a feat of manliness to evacuate a room by stench).

Why don’t all stalls have coat hooks?   Especially in Minnesota?  We have jackets on year round.  It must be that demon-man who did the seats/stalls again.  Let him try to squat over some gross toilet bowl holding on to a huge winter coat and a purse (because no woman in her right mind is going to set her purse down on that disgusting stall floor).

What about the locks on the doors?  How many times have you gone in and realized that the lock was broke but someone else is in the next stall and so you can’t change stalls.  Ever try to pee while holding the door shut with your head?  Or trying to stretch your arm as far out of the socket as it will go to hang on to the door while attempting to squat and not pee all over your pants.  Men do not understand the trouble we can encounter when we are using the Ladies Room.  That is why we go in groups.  So someone can stand guard, or hold the door or run the water or grab toilet paper from the next stall…..

Which leads me to my last rant….the toilet paper dispenser.  Lord how I hate those things.  I don’t know which one I hate worse…the tiny folded paper ones that you have to use 37 of  to make sure you don’t get your hand dirty or the ones that have two rolls in them but are almost to the floor.  And then you have to reach waaaaaay up into them to grab the paper and it is so hard to get the roll moving and all the while you are in the “better safe than sorry” squat position.  I have had serious knee issues after a trip to the bathroom.  Not to mention wet pant bottoms…or splashes on my shoes.

I think it will just be easier as I get older to just wear a pair of disposable panties when I shop.  Will give a whole new meaning to the words, “Shop and Go”…

Until tomorrow I remain your ranting Queen,

Robyn

NEW SUMMER BLOG PROJECT: THE ABC’S OF RANTINGS

I can’t believe it’s time again to do a themed project between Memorial Day and Labor Day!  Last year’s 97 days of “The Hairs of My Life” was a hit so I was wondering what I could do this year.  I was going to do a “Crafts of My Life” a 97 day look back at all the things I have made with my own bare hands (and a sewing machine, or rug hook or saw, etc) that I had the foresight to take photos of but as I was getting ready to sit in my Lazy Arse chair and write, I had a new thought (which considering I have AADD happens to me every three seconds) and thought I would “Rant the Alphabet”

I am pretty sure I can come up with 26 different things that bug me and in alphabetical order no less!  So let’s grab a nice big iced coffee and get this party started!

A  is for:  AIRLINES

I am not a frequent flier.  The last time I flew was in 2009 and it was over to Holland…a mere 14 hour flight.

I like to sit next to the window as I feel I have my own little “space” and since I never fly alone, my flightmate sits in the seat next to me so I feel more secure…and kinda snug…like you would in an open-lid casket.

I really was naive in thinking that since the plane was going to be a large one (tho I was sorely disappointed it didn’t have an “upstairs”) that the seats would be a tad bigger. Nay, nay….my Large Marge arse had to fit into a space half it’s size…for 14 non-stop hours.

Not only my generously sized body was squeeeeeeezed into that space but also my carry on bag and my purse (which could double as a carry-on bag).  In my bags I had squirreled away food, books, art supplies (I fancy myself a budding ar-teest), extra clothing (in case my suitcase got lost), a large cape (to wear and to huddle under should the temp in the plane get frigid) and a small pillow (there ain’t no way in Hades that I am putting my head on a public pillow…ewwww) and who knows what else is in there but both bags had to be jammed under the seat in front of me.  Which left little room for my legs and feet.

I am only 5’4 but who ever designed the seats in coach had serious issues with normal people.  The seats are designed for 8 year olds.  Short, 8 year olds.  No one over 8 can fit comfortably in a coach seat.  And no normal person can afford a First Class seat!

I’m sure my 6’2 husband can tell you horror stories of his own but this is my blog and he can’t get a word in edgewise (like in real life!)

I like to sit in close proximity to the bathrooms.  I stress out having to climb over someone else to get to the aisle.  If you are a faithful reader of this blog, you know I have balance issues and can end up on the floor in any given circumstance.  I also hate walking down the aisle to the bathroom.  Being of woman of great wideness, if I should happen to meet someone coming in opposite direction, what are my options?  Lord help us all if I have to back-up.  And having someone squeeeeeze by me sends me into waves of panic because what if they bump me and I lose my balance and the weight of my butt throws me into the lap of some unsuspecting person and they start yelling and the hidden Air Marshall thinks something terroristic is happening and they come running and people start screaming and the person who I am sitting on is trying desperately to push me off and I start laughing (I do that at all sorts of inappropriate times) and I tinkle because of the weakness of my bladder and the fact that I have waited until the last possible second to use that bathroom and they think they feel blood on them and start screaming that they are hit and the Air Marshall pulls his gun on me and I am flailing my arms trying to get off of the screaming person and it looks like I am trying to fight back and the tinkle has now become a full on “golden shower”?

Seat me next to the bathroom to save all souls on board, please.

Shall I tell you about the food, or should I say what passes as food?  Since our flight left at night we only got a breakfast….a plain bagel, some generic cream cheese, a plastic bowl of cereal and a shot glass sized juice and the worse coffee in the world.  I might have mentioned that I am a woman of size so when I went to put my tray down, to my abject embarrassment, the tray could not go down all the way as my post-baby tummy (26yrs) was too big.  So I had two choices.  The first was to try to keep my food from sliding back towards the seat in front of me or to squeeeeze the tray down over my belly and not breathe since there was not a millimeter of space left.  I decided I didn’t really need any breakfast and that drinking the thimble of juice and the world’s worst coffee would only increase the chances of having to go to the bathroom again and we all know how that turns out, now don’t we?

Tune in tomorrow folks for the next installment of the ABC’S OF RANTING

JUST A LITTLE BIT UGLY

Well we are into day two of this holiday weekend and by some cruel twist of fate, I have aged 20 years and with two days still to go, by Monday night at 11:59pm I should be ancient.

What has caused this rapid aging?  Oh, I am so glad you asked…

Our bestest friends had a daughter get married yesterday and our daughter was in the wedding….sounds good, right?  No stress. Nothing to age about….except…..

Our daughter has three wonderful, darling, smart, gorgeous, above exceptional children (like all grandbabies, right?) and a husband who just started a new position so his time off that he had requested was null and void….this is where it gets interesting…

On Friday, our daughter wanted to go and do “bridesmaid” stuff and my husband and I were beyond thrilled to watch all three little ones.  Did I mention how little?  A very inquisitive 4 year old, a “independent” 2 year old, and a very chubby 8 month old who is just starting to be weaned.  Momma drops off the babes even before this granny got home from work….oh, ya…did I forget to add that I had worked all night?

We had a wonderful day…grandpa put the two older ones in the garden cart and like a man working for tips, ran them all over the property.  Took them to visit the cows and play in the water trough and then they played games outside.  Grandma was in charge of the Michelin man baby.  Who knew that a baby gets heavier and heavier as the day goes by and that fat, old grandma’s arms get weaker and weaker?  A small reprieve by laying with said baby when baby naps surrounded by pillows and giant teddy bears so just in case Grandma nods off, baby won’t roll off bed and bounce around room.  I don’t know about any other grandparents but when our grands are here we are slaves to their various whims, make twenty-seven different things to try to get them to eat something, become human toys and carnival rides but by the time momma came to pick them up, Grandma was drooling and running into things and Grumpa was nursing an aching back.  But our hearts were happy and full.

Saturday:  Daughter has to be at wedding home at 10am and so three, energetic cherubs bound in at 8:30 am.  Now Grandma had to be up by 6am to get ready for the wedding day as she knew that once the troops came there would be no time.   So grandma is all coiffed and make up is spackled on when babes arrive.  At breakfast table grandma mentions to Grumpa that the 4 yr. old and the 2 yr. old keep looking at her as they don’t often see grandma in “full glamour” mode.  So dear Grumpa says to 4yr. old, “Doesn’t Grandma look pretty?” and sweet child says to me, “Grandma, you are very pretty”.  But instead of just saying Thank You, I have to push the envelope and ask, “Are you saying that just to be nice or do you really think Grandma is pretty?”   Sweetness pours out of that rosebud mouth, “I’m just saying that to be nice”.   So I add salt to my wound by asking, “Do you think Grandma is ugly???”    That little pie hole opens up and “Yes, Grandma, I think you are a little bit ugly” comes tumbling out of it.

NEVER as a child for the truth if you don’t have the cojonies to hear it!

I see I failed to mention that we were in charge of the three babes for the whole day which meant we had to make sure they were all fed and cleaned up and brought to the wedding place early because the older two were in the wedding.  I have now learned that trying to contain and control three young children is like trying to contain water in a colander.  I swear each one had at least three Doppelgangers….

Having been a mother and knowing that children cannot go for long periods of time without eating, I packed up a thermal bag with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, fruit snacks, chips, baby food, baby puffs (like good-for-you Cherrios), Goldfish crackers, anything I could think of that a little one might eat, sippy cups full of water and a couple of toys for them to play with on the hour and a half drive to wedding.

I must interject here that our daughter as a child was very soft-spoken and eventho she liked to talk, it was easy to listen with just “half an ear”.  Her children have not inherited her vocal cords.  We were regaled with stories and songs and questions (which the 4yr old demanded that Grumpa look at him when he was talking, quite a feat since Grumpa was driving and Grandma has always yelled at Grumpa to watch the road instead of rubbernecking while he was driving!)  And the 2 yr old was attempting to put her fingers up into her brain via her nasal cavities most of the trip and politely declined offers of a hankie.

Oh ya, let’s just add that Grandma should have tried on her wedding outfit BEFORE it was time to go.  Somehow said outfit shrunk in the closet and Grandma panicked and wore a polyester top and it was 100 degrees outside and Grandma was sweating like Jabba the Hut in a sauna.  And the wedding was outside…..in the sun……

I swear to you I am exhausted right now just writing about the day and I am not even half done!  So I am going to condense this story into verbs and adjectives and short phrases…I’m sure it will suffice…

Babes to get dressed in wedding attire but first need snack

Goldfish trampled into wedding house carpets

Sandwich crusts on wedding house couch

Sticky fingers on wedding house coffee table

Baby needs diaper change….pee ewww baby

Stinky diaper in wedding house garbage

2yr old needs financial incentive to get dressed up

Baba shows up with insignificant other (my mom and her long-suffering life companion)

Hand 19# baby over to Baba to hold

Go to seat in blazing sun

Wedding starts, aisle seat, great photo spot, daughter is first down

Start phone video

Video stops….no more storage space.

Panic

Grab Grumpa’s phone, don’t know how to get video going, throw it at Grumpa

Help, Grumpa, HELP

Grumpa has no cheaters handy, can’t see

100 degrees….blazing sun….polyester top (black of course) rivers of living water pouring from Grandma

Daughter coming down isle

NO PICTURE

Major panic mode as it is getting closer to the time the grands start down!

Get Grumpa’s phone to picture mode.

Sweat pouring into Grandma’s eyes, can’t see to take photos, snap, Grandma, snap

Granddaughter walks down aisle looking like a little funky princess in creamy white and pink tulle dress and cowboy boots….

Blindly snapping photos as now eye make-up has run into eyes and burning out irises.

Here comes grandson, with his cowboy hat and white shirt and gray vest and jeans pulling a red wagon with baby in it with sign on the back saying , HERE SHE COME

Hitting buttons on phone hoping to hit right one for photos, can no longer open eyes

Bride and her proud papa come down aisle, see black and white blurs, think it must be bride and dad

Wedding starts

Time to run up and get grands to sit with us

Hobble over (did I mention I had on my cowboy boots which were killing my feet and wool socks on?) and grab grands

Someone has given them suckers, look around to see who to punch, as their photos with the wedding party are AFTER the wedding and both kids are already drooling Tootsie Pop on clothes.

100 degrees, black polyester top, Grandma is slowly dying of heat stroke, can feel feet swelling inside cowboy boots, wool socks on.

Baby not happy.  Cry, baby, cry

Baba gives bracelet to baby to chew on..baby wants phone…Baba gives baby phone, chew, baby, chew

Grandma freaks, germs, baby, germs!

Grandma has to take 2yr old in house to get sucker out of hair and to wash sticky hands and face and to try to get out orange stains on creamy white and pink tulle dress from ^%$& sucker.

Grumpa comes in….4yr old needs potty…needs newspaper….

Wedding over…..Grandma and Grumpa miss most of it…hope to see video

Two hour wait until reception

100 degrees, wool socks, hot, sticky, crabby, hungry and the kids aren’t too comfortable either!

Find chairs in shade, drink countless glasses of ice-cold water, try to keep grands happy and clean and hydrated….

Cry, baby, cry

Pick off woodticks

Finally time for photos….find Grumpa and 4yr. old….

2yr old needs more financial backing to put headband back one (how can a 2yr old have such a concept of money? )

Grumpa escapes somewhere.

Cry, baby, cry

7 time dad takes baby, magically baby falls asleep on his shoulder

Love, Chris, Love

Time to get over to reception.

Grumpa takes all babes in daughter’s SUV

Grandma gathers all diaper bags, clothing, food

Spies baby car seat

Oh-oh

Give car seat to teenager to run it to Grumpa before Grumpa has to walk back with all three babes

Whew

Oh-Oh

Grandma has locked the SUV and still has keys

Grandma is going to be in BIG trouble

Run, Grandma, Run

I have to stop here and get ready to go to a birthday party and then go on to work so I will leave you with the photo I took of myself while we were waiting to eat at reception.

It pretty much sums up the day so far.

I will continue this story later and there is plenty more to tell!

 

WHAT WAS I SAYING?

 The other day I saw a picture of a celebrity and for the life of me, I could not remember his name.  I could tell you the movies he was in and that he was once on SNL but his name just totally was gone from my memory.  It was kinda scary.  To have a total blank-out on a face that you know well.  It felt like my brain was on “pause”.  After a minute or so, my brain hit, “play” and his name popped back into my memory (Will Ferrell) but the whole incident has me wondering if it is just information overload or something more serious.And the more concerned I get about it, the more I seem to forget.  I can give you a whole list of physical reasons why my memory is failing me and they are all valid, actual reasons but it still strikes terror in my heart when it happens.

Walking into a room and not remembering why I went in there is now my new “normal” as is going to do one thing, but doing something totally different because I either forgot what I was going to do, or got distracted by something else and promptly forgot what I set out to do originally.  Of course, I would never catch on to this fact except my husband has often asked me why I didn’t do such and such when I had said I was going to go and do it.  And when I tell him either I forgot or got way-laid, I get “the look”.Anyone who has “Chronic Memory Deficit Disorder” (I just made that up and I think it is pretty apropos) knows “the look”.  It’s where a family member, usually a child over the age of 12, looks at you as if you had just pooped on the kitchen floor.  It’s a mixture of annoyance, disgust, and pity.  “Doesn’t that worry you?”, he will ask.   No, not especially, I think.  Besides, the man is almost six years younger than me and has started to display his own signs of CMDD and I have been able to throw back the line, “Doesn’t that worry you”?  (Side note:  my husband is pretty awesome and I love him to pieces and he is usually ok with my memory lapses!)

 Has this happened to you?  I have now preface most of my conversations with, “I don’t know if this is true or if I just made it up”.  Because many times I can’t remember where I heard something so I can’t back up my story with facts.  Or if I do have facts, they may not be true!  I blame it on the internet. I met with some old friends a few weeks back and we were reminiscing about our childhood/teen years when my oldest friend (as in we have been friends the longest…since we were toddlers) told a story about an adventure we had and I had absolutely NO memory of it….nada….not even a vague feeling that maybe I had a memory of it.  That was weird.  We go back a long, long time and had years of adventures together but you would think I could have some recollection of this particular event.  But secretly I wondered if she might have gotten me mixed up with one of our other friends who was not with us.  At least that’s my story

…. I cannot tell you how many times I have done this and have been so surprised that I had forgotten I had JUST sent an email or text to myself!  I feel like a total moron…but it does make me laugh everytime!

 I do this all the time with passwords.  I usually try to keep the same three passwords but sometimes you have to add something to them like a number or a symbol and I always think I am going to remember it and of course, I NEVER do.  I can not tell you how many accounts I cannot get into because I cannot remember my dang password.  Or if I actually did write it down somewhere I cannot find it or in a moment of what I considered pure genius, I have sent myself (see above) the password but not the account it is for since email isn’t secure.  I now have three emails with different passwords and not a clue as to what account they are for!

If I have an event I need to remember, I must run right away to my wall calendar and write it down or I will never remember it.  And then I have to highlight the crap out of it or I won’t remember to even look at the calendar!  And please don’t even bother leaving me a voice message.  IF I remember to check our land line machine, I will listen to your message and think to myself, “Gotta remember to call so and so back” and that will be the absolute last time it will be in my brain.  I have a whole wall that is painted with blackboard paint and if I don’t run from the phone to the blackboard and write it down…..well, we all know how that ends, now don’t we.

I have to admit to have done this at least twice, at least….maybe more.  I get all panicky thinking where in the heck I could have left it as I have all my photos and videos of my grands on there and of course, I don’t know how to throw them up to the Cloud or how to store them in itunes so I live in constant fear of losing my stinkin’ phone.  Its a real relief to find out I am just losing my mind and have not lost my phone when I realize I am talking on it!  I have done a similar thing with my purse over the years.  I have had it on my arm and have had packages also on that arm and all of a sudden I get that heart stab panic….WHERE’S MY PURSE…and start hyperventilating and running hither and yon and then I spot it and I could just pee with relief….been there, done that?

 oh geez, I should have cropped that before I put it on here and I have no idea how to get it off!)    It really is a medical thing (I think) that as we age, we no longer have room for all our memories and so when something new comes in, something else leaves.  I wish we could delete all the bad memories or stupid stuff, so more important info has room to stay.  (This is really sad..I spent about an hour going thru Pinterest looking for memory stuff and I just saw that I had pinned the same thing THREE times….and not just one….I had done it with two of them….)

What I really hate is I have now started to lose my train of thought mid sentence.  How is that possible?  Is it I talk too much or have such unmemorable stuff to say that I get bored with myself and hit a brain delete button before I have completed my thought?  I am going to have to start keeping a hanging notebook around my neck to quickly write down a thought lest I forget it in a nanosecond.   It is always much worse if I have had more than two cups of coffee…my mouth absorbs all the caffeine and works overtime and on fast forward but my brain is on pause and the combination of the two makes me sound like an idiot.

Now this is something I would love to forget…what if we were all to forget our chronological age and live like we are the age we feel inside?  Truly our lives would be changed, I bet.  I know mine would.  No more lamenting on how little time is left to do all the things I have been putting off till “next year”!  No more late night tears thinking I might not be around to see my grands get married and certainly won’t be around to see the births of their children.  No more feeling like, “Why bother…I’m getting too old to think of doing that”.

Oh ya, forgetting my age would be the only thing I would love to forget!

MELANCHOLY BLUES

A new day is breaking and instead of being blissfully asleep, I am sitting in my lazy arse chair contemplating life.  

Usually daybreak brings with it an excitement; what might this day hold?  But for some reason today a sadness is being ushered in and I can’t put my finger on the reason why.

Life is good.  Everyone I love is well and happy.  I am taking a leave from my job for a few months.  I have no pressing worries.  So I have no reason to be sad….

Perhaps in part is the knowledge that time is passing by way too quickly.  I no longer have the luxury of  my Scarlett O’Hara thinking.  “Tomorrow” is here and if I don’t do what I have put off for so long, the chances of ever doing it is rapidly fading away.

Perhaps it’s the fact that three of my friends have just lost a parent and eventho my own mom is in excellent health, she is 82.  82….seems impossible for her to be that age. I think because she has always been so vivacious and active, I forget that she isn’t immortal.  That there may be a day when she isn’t the life of the party.

Perhaps it is the state of this world; the random violence, the hatred of one religion against another, the endless tragedies, the calling of “evil good and good evil”, the lack of respect for life, the filth and perversion in the media, the fracturing of families, and I could go on and on.

Perhaps it is nothing more than brain that needs to get back to a normal sleep pattern. To sleep when it’s dark and to be awake when it’s light instead of being awake most of the night and then cat napping during the day and waking up not knowing if it is night or day or if I have overslept or if I should be somewhere.  I have seriously started to wonder about my memory….

The sun is now rising above the tall pines out my window.  The cows are happily chomping down their hay.  I hear the birds chirping and the frogs croaking.  A couple of deer, so gray in color that they blend into the leafless tress, are grazing on the tiny patches of new grass.  The chickadees are at the birdfeeder.  There is a feeling of expectation in the air….what will this new day bring?

I think I shall go now and turn on some soft praise music and sit with my face in the sun and count my blessings and give thanks to the One who has brought me thru this night and a thousand others and offer up this new day to Him.  He knows the number of my days and the trials and tribulations; the joys and the sorrows; the laughter and the tears that each day might bring.  I need only to rest in Him.

Yes, it is going to be a good day after all….