Actually, it’s not a toad…it’s a frog.  We have the noisiest little frog living in our house.  Yup, you read that right.  He is in our house.  For the past several weeks we have been annoyed by the vocalizations of what turned out to be a tiny little frog.  Now, if you remember, when we opened the pool I dipped 9 frogs out of there.  I relocated them to another yard…yes I know not very friendly, but trust me when I say that the neighbor’s yard that I relocated them to is not very friendly either.  I thought the problem was solved.  Then, came the croaking.  As soon as the sun sets he begins.  I looked high and low for him.  Finally I found the little bugger.  Now I am going to try to explain where he lives.  There is a hole where the brick and the vinyl siding meet.  The hole is no larger than a penny.  I tracked him by his singing.  When I approached the area where it seemed he was hiding I finally saw him duck back into the hole.  Inside the house…between the outside wall and the siding.

I waited patiently for him to re-appear.  Okay, not so much patiently as get  your little ass out here, but still I waited.   In the interim, Boppy came out and pointed out that two other mouthy little frogs were poolside.  I went into the house and grabbed a Daisy sour cream container and lid and the net from the pool and off I went…frog hunting. 

It is pretty dark at 8:30p.m. but I still managed to find the first little frog (and I mean little, they were perhaps 3 inches long) and cover him with the net.  Then I got down on my all fours and placed the container over the little guy (or gal).  Then I carefully slipped the lid underneath the container, thus trapping the frog.  Just to be sure, I shook the container (my daughter about had a cow) and sure enough he was in there.  I then carried his baritone self to the fence and unceremoniously dumped his ass over the fence.  I went back for the second one.  I found him near the pool ladder and scooped him up, just like I had his friend.  Then I went after my primary concern.

I waited and waited for the little m’er f’er to stick his head out of his hidey hole.  He finally did.  I went in with my sour cream container, but no net.  It wouldn’t fit in the tiny little hole he was in.  As soon as I touched him with the container he ducked back in.  Then I had to wait…again.  Pretty much the whole thing was wait, touch, repeat.  Meanwhile, I am cursing like a sailor on leave.  I have called this frog every name in the book.   He is not impressed.  He sticks his head out, I get my container, I touch him, he pulls back into his hidey hole.  Eventually, I gave up.  Well, it was more like Boppy pulled me away for dinner.

I will catch him.  He has to come out eventually.  You see I have never tolerated repetitive noises.  It is one of my little peeves.  I don’t like drumming fingers, or whistling aimlessly…It makes me want to kill something.  I have to admit, I seriously thought about ways to kill a frog last night.  My conscience can bother me later.  You have no idea how loud this frog is…for a tiny little frog he puts out a great deal of noise.  I can’t promise his demise won’t happen,  but I will attempt to relocate him first.  I figure they are around the pool for a reason.  Obviously, they like the water.  So I figure eventually he will have to come out to re-wet himself…then he’s mine (add maniacal laughter here).  My life is being dictated by a life form that is smaller than an egg.  So be it…it is what it is.  He is bugging me.  I am larger than he.  I will win!  Okay, I may not win, but I will make sure the frog doesn’t either.  If I have to be bugged by him…he will be bugged by me.  Tonight at sunset I will be sitting in my deck chair, sour cream container in hand, watching for the little creep to peek out…net be damned I’m going after him with my hands.   He will be mine…Oh yes, he will be mine!

 

It’s official…my mother is deaf.  She came over last night to celebrate The Precious’s 2nd birthday and I swear to you she couldn’t hear a thing.  In order to get her to hear you, you have to first get everyone else in the room to shut up and secondly look right at her and scream.  Let me just say that when you have our family together in one room you will not be able to get everyone to shut up.  You might get some to lower the volume, but shutting up is out of the question.  In fact, if you have the whole family together what you usually get is everyone talking louder so that they can be heard over whomever else is talking.

This was the scenario last night.  We had a house full of people.  We had the whole family sans one uncle, but we also had my very dear, very southern friend who lives down the street.  That woman could talk the horns off of a billy goat.  Any subject you bring up she has a story for.  If you have ever been somewhere she has either been there or is going soon.  Now, let me clarify…I love her.  I think she is a hoot.  In fact, I encourage her stories.  Nine out of ten times she is pissed at one of her kids.  They have always done something that would make a parent less than proud.  She usually starts her stories with “Lord, girl wait till you hear what…”  the last noun in that sentence is generally one of the old neighbor ladies or one of her kids.  Not only does she speak loudly, she speaks quickly and thus it is very difficult for mom to hear her.  (Like she hears any of the rest of us).

Part of the problem is that the ENT I took mom to said that the problem in her right ear can’t be improved by using a hearing aid.  Mom immediately took that hearing aid out and put it away.  Now she has only her left ear and the hearing in it is incredibly diminished.  The bigger problem is that she hears part of a word and then decides what the word is without hearing it.  So you may say “it’s coming apart” and she hears “who let a fart”.   Not great in mixed company.  My sister and I are usually pretty good about catching what is going on and cleaning it up before it hits the fan.  I worry a lot about her going to the doctor alone but she insists she can do it herself.  Then she comes home and tells me what the doctor said or how she is supposed to take her medicine and I know it’s wrong.  I then have to call the doctor and get the correct diagnosis or dose.  Luckily the doctor is a good friend as well, so he is very patient with mom and the fact that he has to tell her and then tell me.

Anyway last night at some point in the conversations my mother heard my very dear, very southern friend who lives down the street discussing her trip to Scotland next month.  She was talking about having a key made for me so that I can check on her houseplants and pick up her mail.  Some how mom got the idea that she was leaving right away on a cruise (totally wrong) andthat she was going to be gone until next month.  So today I get a phone call that goes something like this: “Has granny k. left yet?”  “Gone where?”  “To Ireland.”  “She went to Ireland last year.”  “Well, she’s going back.  She said she is taking her 3 boys.”  “Okay, Scotland…she’s taking the boys to Scotland.”  “Scotland..Ireland..I knew it was a place that grew potatoes.” hmmm… “Okay?”  “Well has she left?”  “She doesn’t go until next month.”  “No she said she was leaving this month.”  “No mom, she is definitely leaving next month.  I know because I am taking care of her house while she is gone.”  “Then why was she trying to give you her house key?”  “So I could check on her house.”  “Well you don’t need it now do you?”  “Well we were supposed to have traded keys a while back and I gave her our house key.  ”  “Why did you give her a key to your house?”  “Well, if we get locked out or one of the kids loses their key we can just walk down there and get her key.”  “Well you could call me.”  “Yes, I suppose I could, but what if it’s dark outside and you had to drive in the dark to let me in?  You don’t drive in the dark.”  “Well, why would you be out that late without your key or your husband?”  “I don’t know, let’s say I am hanging out in a bar and I’m too drunk to drive.  If I call a cab to take me home and get there and my hubby is gone…she’s just down the street and I don’t have to wait for you to let me in.”  long pause…”how often does that happen?”  “What?”  “You two go out drinking and have to call a cab?” ”Mom, I was just speaking hypothetically.  We don’t drink but that is one scenario in which we might need a key closer than yours.”  “I suppose if you are going to act like fools you probably don’t want your mother to know.”  “Yes, mom.  That’s right.”   So you see how this works.  She hears what she thinks was said and runs with it.  She probably went right home and emailed everyone she knows about the drinking problem her baby daughter has.  She probably called my preacher cousin and arranged an exorcism.  The other thing that makes this difficult is that this conversation started with her asking about my neighbor, and ended with me being in trouble.  Sometimes I say things (like the drunken thing) just to see if she’s paying attention.  Just for the record, those are the things she hears perfectly.  I just can’t win.  It’s especially hard right now, because I have had this same sinus infection and bronchitis for about three weeks now.  My voice is shot.  At first I sounded like Marge Simpson, but over time I have become a two pack a day Bea Arthur.  Even if I shout it is hard for mother to hear me.  So she will repeat what she thinks I have said and it will be totally wrong.  I then rev up my voice and repeat what I just said.  Sometimes she gets it the second time, but often she misses and I have to try to shout even louder.  I don’t know if I have lost my voice due to illness or shouting.

The amazing part of all of this is that she hears perfectly what The Precious says.  To her he talks in complete sentences and says words that none of the rest of us have ever heard him say.  His vocabulary around his great-grandmother increases ten-fold, at least.  I will hear him say “c’mon Emmy, let’s shoot” and mother hears, “I want to go to granny’s.”  He might say “I don’t want it.” and mother hears “no one loves me as much as granny.”  It is amazing.  I don’t know what to do.  I’ve taken her to the best doctors I know and nothing can make her hear better.  I think we are just going to have to accept the fact that granny is deaf.  It could happen to any of us.  Deafness runs in the family, so I try to choose my words carefully for I may have to eat them in the near future.  I have gone so far as to say that if there is anything that can be done I will do it.  I don’t want my kids talking to me like I talk to my mother.

 

 

 

Hey little boy, this is your Emmy and I want you to understand how very loved you are so I am writing this blog hoping that someday when you are old enough to read it you can better grasp the idea of unconditional love.

Two years ago, after a really long wait you were born.  Your daddy had been teasing everyone for the last several days about mommy being in labor.  Fairly early on that Satruday (Emmy’s early, not the rest of the world) your daddy called to tell us that mommy was in labor.  I went and woke up Boppy and we got to the hospital as quickly as we could.  When we walked in your mommy’s room she was curled up and in a lot of pain.  I held her hand and talked to her as we waited for the doctor to come in and give mommy something for the pain.  The doctor came in and gave mommy a shot, and she felt much better.  Now she was ready to see you.  After several hours you decided to show your little face.  I was there with mommy and daddy when you were born.  I cried when I saw you because you were so precious.  Mommy and daddy were so proud of you.  Mommy held you, then the nurses wanted to clean you up a little.  After your mini bath your daddy held you.  Finally, I was able to hold you and I knew right then that our relationship was going to be extra special.  I handed you back to daddy and went to tell Boppy, and Pa and Granny that you were here, healthy, and absolutely beautiful.  When they were allowed to see you, Pa said you were the prettiest newborn he had ever seen.  You were a funny little monkey.  When you were born you were licking your lips.  You wouldn’t stop.  Your little tongue was out a lot more than it was in.  You looked like a human lizard, but it sure made you easy to find in the nursery.  We just looked for the baby that was licking his lips and that was you!

After you were returned to mommy’s room we all began making phone calls.  Everyone in the family had wanted to know the minute you were born.  We called your aunt and uncle first.  Then we called all the great aunts and uncles.  Everyone was so happy that you were finally here.  You were certainly worth the wait.  You have made your daddy happier than I have ever seen him in his life, and I have known him since he was born.  Your mommy has been the best mommy I have ever seen.  She did everything just right while you were in her tummy and she continued to do everything right after you were born.  I came to your house the first week that you were there and helped you and your mommy.  You had a lot of naps on my chest that week.  I napped too on occasion.  You also had a lot of company.  Everyone wanted to see the new baby. 

Grandpa and Grandma couldn’t come.  Grandma was too sick and it was hard for her to leave home.  On Father’s day 2007 we took you to Harrison to see them.  It was your first big trip!  Grandma and Grandpa were thrilled to see you.  They couldn’t wait to hold you.  We took pictures.  It was hard for Grandma to hold you on her own, but we helped her and she couldn’t kiss your head enough! You will need to remember how much she loved you and we will tell you through the years because Grandma died shortly after that.  Since then Pa passed away too.  You and Pa were always buddies.  He could make you laugh like no one else.  You still recognize Pa in pictures but as you get older you will need us to tell you about Grandma and Pa because you won’t remember the love they shined on you.

You, my dear, have become the family toy.  When you walk in to Emmy and Boppy’s house it is all about you.  Anything you want is yours.  When your Uncle comes in from Chicago he wants to see you first.  He gets mad that mommy and daddy have such an early bed time for you because he can’t play with you enough.  Just between you and me, he would never have enough time to play with you.  When your Aunt moved back she needed to see her little man.  You hadn’t seen her in six months, but you picked up right where you left off.  You called her by name and wrapped her around your little finger.  You love to run through the house and boss us all around.  You love to tell us to “come shoot basketball”, “let’s walk Emmy”,   and now that it’s summer you are begging to get in “big water”.

You my very darling, blue-eyed boy are loved to the moon and back by more people than you can possibly count.  You have at least two angels in heaven watching very closely over you, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they made sure you lead a blessed life.  You charm the people you meet with your smile and beautiful eyes.  You are sometimes very friendly and sometimes very shy.  The outgoing part of your personality comes from your daddy.  He always has enjoyed meeting new people.  The shy part of your personality comes from mommy.  She is outgoing with family but she doesn’t really enjoy meeting strangers.  So when you feel shy, just remember you get that from mommy and it’s okay.

I can’t wait to see what all the years ahead have in store for you.  I am looking forward to every phase of your growth.  I can’t wait to brag about every little move you make…what do I mean wait?  I already brag about you to anyone who will listen.  Our family has bored everyone we know with stories about you and what you have done or said.  You are my little monkey man.  You earned that moniker when you were born and it has stuck.  You will always be my first grandchild and I will never stop loving you.  No one will.  Once you are a part of this family you are stuck.  You can always count on us.  You will always have a shoulder to cry on, arms to lean on, an ear to hear your complaints, and someone will always be there for you no matter what.  You were born to a strong and loving family.  You are already a strong and loving boy.  You are free with hugs and kisses because you have received so many you think everyone does that.  That’s a good thing.  The best is when you come for a kiss out of the blue.  

You melt my heart little man.  You are the perfect blend of your mommy and daddy.  You are the cutest little monkey in the jungle.  You are our personal comedian, and now you are two.  Two whole years have gone by since I first saw you in the hospital.  My love for you has grown, and I was pretty sure it couldn’t.  You remind of your daddy sometimes and take me back to when he was a little boy.  When you blow me kisses or even get on to me the love meter rises.  I don’t know how high that meter goes, but I have a feeling it is infinite.  So to you on your 2nd birthday, I wish you health and happiness.  I won’t wish you love because you have more than any other child I know.  Trust your heart and listen to your parents and you’ll be fine.  (If you ever have a run in with them just let me know.)  Now go eat chocolate cake and blow out your candles at least 20 times.  Happy To You! (that isn’t a typo, that is how you are currently singing the birthday song.)  I love you!   

 

Why do weeds flourish where flowers don’t?  As you’ll recall I recently blogged about doing the yard work.  It is not something I live for.  The yard is almost finished now…the honeysuckle vines have been trimmed back and the trees have been pruned (I mean tree…we only have the one).  I watered the petunias last night and noticed that it is already time to weed.  The height of the petunias hasn’t changed one iota, but the weeds are ready to take over the beds.

I try to approach weeding in the same fashion that I approach plucking my eyebrows.  If you check everyday for strays and pluck the offending hairs each day you don’t have to spend a lot of time in pain from the plucking.  So, each time I walk out into the yard I stoop and pluck all the little weeds and nut grass that I can find.  This works with my eyebrows, but weeds don’t adhere to the same growth policy.  They can absolutely take over the yard in the space of one night.  It is ridiculous.   One of the weeds that loves our yard has a huge but shallow root system.  It starts with a center that looks like a spider web and then it sends tendrils shooting out from that.  Luckily when you start to pull it up it comes easily and it looks like you’ve done a lot of work because it covers so much territory.  Unfortunately, it grows right back.  I swear if I had the time to watch I could actually see these things grow, no time lapse photography required.

Our yard (especially the back) consists of tree shoots the squirrels planted, honeysuckle that I planted years ago that has taken over the fence and a considerable part of the yard, nut grasses, and dandelions.  It is impossible to pull all the weeds.  If I did we wouldn’t have a yard.  Of course, we cut way back on yard when we installed the in ground pool.  We further diminished the green by pouring a basketball court.  If the hubby has his way the remainder will soon be home to a putting green.  Don’t tell him, but if he thinks I have done all this stinking yard work so he can spend hours out back putting he has lost his effin’ mind.  First of all, he won’t maintain it,  secondly, when would he ever find time to be out there?  He spends every daylight waking hour on the real golf course.  Lastly,  my daughter and I have decided to plant a vegetable garden in the area that used to house the pear trees.  As for the rest of it, I’m thinking rocks…a lot of rocks.  I know they will grow well back there, because they already do.  They won’t require mowing.  In fact the only problem with rocks will be The Precious throwing them in the pool and at the house.

One additional problem with the yard work is the fact that I can only work out there from about 7:00 p.m. until dark.  I can’t tolerate the heat like I used to.  Since there are no trees out there the sun just beats you down.  If I am in the pool with my big old sun hat on I can manage, but out there working in the sun gives me a migraine.  Here’s the real clincher though…we have lawn people who come by and treat our yard for weeds and nut grasses.  I pay them every month for their services, and then take a margarita out back and cry over the sad state of things.  I mean, if the pros can’t make a pretty yard happen what chance do I have?  You know the old joke…my  chances are somewhere between slim and nun…and Slim is out of town and the nun is cloistered. 

Oh well, The Precious is having his birthday party on Saturday and after that the yard can go back to hell where it came from.  After Boppy found a snake out there I pretty much lost interest in the tallest weeds anyway.  There is a pile of wood out back where Boppy either built something and had left over wood, or where he thought he was going to build something and that just didn’t happen.  Either way I would like to see that go, but I’m not going to be the fool that moves it.  Are you kidding?  If I bent down to pick up a board and the wind shifted or (God forbid) I saw any…ANY movement I would mess myself, and I don’t think anyone would volunteer to change my pants.  Of course that is assuming that the heart attack wouldn’t kill me.  We plan on taking the last of the dead leaves and vines to the mulching place on Friday…I plan on doing as little of the lifting as possible, because the other problem with yard work is…It hurts!   I’m old, arthritic, grumpy and sore.  The less I have to do at this point is just about enough. 

The bottom line is when I say the yard work is done, I mean until next year.  Maintenance is not my forte.  I will make it look as nice as possible for now, and then let it go again until next year just like I always do.  Then next year when it looks just as hideous as it did this year I can bitch and moan about it again. 

Why is it that every time you have a toddler out in public they poop?  I swear you can be home and just change a dirty diaper…take that same child out in public and he will have saved a little for the outing.  I took The Precious to the play land at McDonald’s tonight.  We weren’t there 5 minutes before he had pooped his pants.  I asked him, “did you poo poo?” and that precious little liar looked at me with his big blue eyes and said “NO!”  I told him to let me check and he ran like his butt was on fire.  My daughter-in-law asked me if I had taken an extra diaper and I told her that I hadn’t.  I just let the little stinker (and I mean that literally) play with a load in his diaper.  Needless to say not to many children wanted to play with him. 

It doesn’t help that he is a bossy little thing.  When he was in the playland a smaller child came up to him and he chattered like a mouthy chipmunk and the only thing I understood was “no, baby”.  When I told him that the baby had every right to play in the tree house he looked at me like I had lost my freaking mind.  Later he was walking up the slide and a 5 year old came over to play with him.  He promptly told her “no no” and between his attitude and his odor she left like she thought no no was a good idea. 

It doesn’t help that he hates to have his diaper changed.  I mean that very sincerely.  He will scream and thrash about when you make him lie down to have his diaper changed.  It’s almost like he wants to be rank.  You know that can’t be comfortable…walking around with 5 pounds of wet diaper and poop.  You would think that he would lie still while someone was doing him a favor.  I certainly had things I would have rather done than deal with his crap.  Still, almost every time I change him he acts like I am performing some type of torture on the child.  I tried to make a game out of it.  I push his little head back down when he lifts it up and tell him to be still in such a way that he thinks it’s a game.  The problem with that is I only have two hands.  Between the changing and the popping his noggin I kind of run out of hands.  I change with one and pop with one.  Quite often he ends up with a thong diaper.  The other day both sides were so far up his crack he looked like a midget Sumo wrestler.

Many long years ago I had the same problems with his aunt.  She would only poop if she could hide.  We found her in all kinds of places stinking up the joint.  I think the worst was one day while we were at JCPenney’s.  We had the store shut down because we couldn’t find her.  We looked everywhere possible and finally my sister found her in a dressing room.  My sister said that as soon as the door was opened she knew what she was doing, but just in case she had missed it my lovely two year old daughter put her little index finger up to her Cupid’s bow mouth and said “Shut the door. My pooping!”

I guess the whole poop thing is just excitement.  I mean maybe there is something to that old saying “I’m so excited I could just @#*t.”  Maybe that’s what it is.  It certainly doesn’t work that way for me.  If I go out of town for any reason my bowels go on vacation too.  They refuse to work until I return home.  It’s pretty damned uncomfortable if we are gone from home for any length of time.  That year we traveled Europe for a month was pretty damned miserable let me tell you.  I was about to burst by the time we got home.  This makes perfect sense to me though.  Of course all my bodily functions should be much slower than his.  I am slower than him.  Usually I am much, much slower after he has visited for awhile.

As soon as we got home from McDonald’s I told him it was time to change his diaper.  The fit began about 1 second after I said diaper.  I poured him a sippy cup full of chocolate milk, turned on Lady and The Tramp and after pinning my nose and donning plastic gloves I went in for the clean up.  I had to try and clean his butt while he was twisting and turning and raising six kinds of hell.  Finally I had enough.  In my strictest voice I told him to be still and to my amazement he calmed down.  He was still twisting like a trailer in a tornado, but the screaming stopped.  There is a lot to be said for stopping the screaming.  Of course ever since he began eating real food his poop is like adult poop. It was a lot easier when he lived on breast milk.  Needless to say I cleaned his bottom, put on diaper rash goo, put his shoes back on him (don’t ask) and threw my hands in the air.  8 seconds!  Of course the rodeo humor is lost on him, but he did smile and say “all done.”  Then we were buddies again.

You know maybe I should have taken a diaper with me to Mickey D’s.  It would have been nice not to have the stench in my car…not to mention the close quarters of the play land…but I don’t know if I would have made him (or be able to make him) stop playing for a diaper change.  There was also some advantage to having the other children stay away from him.  I mean, if you are there with a two year old do you really want other children bugging you too?  It may have made the whole evening easier.  Regardless, I bought him big boy underwear for his birthday.  I really think it’s time to begin potty training.  After all, if you are aware enough of your body to lie when someone asks you if you have poo pooed you can probably sit on the potty.  Of course the underwear is Buddin.  I’m not stupid.  I truly don’t think he will poop on Lightning McQueen.  I could be wrong…time will tell. 

On Tuesday my daughter and I went to see Drag Me to Hell.  Now first of all you have to understand that I am a horror flick junkie.  I raised my kids on Hitchcock and Tales from the Crypt.  One of our favorite things to do when they were smaller was to make a big bowl of popcorn, turn on a sleezy B horror flick, and laugh at all the discrepancies in the plot.  It helped them to realize just how stupid these movies were and we had some great bonding moments.  Well, let me just say that if you love horror films you really need to see this movie.  It had plenty of “make you jump” moments but it also made fun of every horror film out there.  It wasn’t afraid to laugh at its self either.  We had a pretty good crowd to watch it with.  Everyone jumped at the right moments and cringed when things were gross.  We did have some teens come in after us, and of course they sat right in front of us.  They texted, wriggled, giggled and talked throughout the movie.  Obviously they weren’t quite ready for this film and their nervous laughter was annoying.  The woman with them whom I assume was their mother, did nothing to stop them.  No problem, a swift kick to the backs of their seats shut them up.  When one of the girls turned around and looked at me, I furrowed my brows and gave her my best mommy glare. ”Turn around and be still” came out of my mouth at the same time my daughter said, “shut-up”.  That was the end of that.  Later my daughter apologized to me for ever having been a teenager.  That was sweet, but I still remember what she was like as a teenager so sorry really doesn’t help.

About half way through the movie a guy came in with a child who was maybe 6.  Now I ask you…what is going through the mind of a parent who drags a 6 year old to a movie that is titled Drag Me To Hell?  When I say that I let my kids watch horror movies, I didn’t mean when they were 6.  They were old enough to understand that this was all make believe.  I had also endoctrinated them in slasher films at home.  It needs to be at home so you can explain in a normal voice…not whispers…that this is not real.  The child didn’t make a noise, at least not that I heard, but the adult was probably kicking himself when the kid was up all night with nightmares.  For God’s sake…adults need to be adults.  Don’t just choose something you want to watch over the sanity of a child.  UP was playing in the theatre next door.  Take the kid to see UP!  Recently my oldest was watching a vampire movie at our home.  The Precious had wandered into the room and was watching closely as the undead created more undead.  I had to suggest that my son change the channel because I was pretty sure that even though The Precious is not old enough to understand the concept of Vampires, he does understand biting (there’s a kid at daycare who may be a fledgling) and I’m pretty sure that no matter how old you are you get that a scream is a reaction to something scary.  My son finally turned the channel and the trance was broken.  I lured The Precious upstairs with the promise of Budin’ bubbles in his bath and the situation was rectified. 

One of my nieces was at the movies seeing Interview with the Vampire  when it came out several years ago.  There was a woman who had brought a toddler to the movies.  I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt and assuming she thought the child would go to sleep before the movie had really gotten started.  Well, of course that didn’t work.  The child cried for what my niece said was a solid twenty minutes.  Everyone in the theatre was giving the woman dirty looks, but rather than leave or take the child home the woman continued to get on to the child.  She would tell it to be quiet and then be surprised when it didn’t respond.  Finally my niece had enough.  she got up out of her seat and went to the woman.  In a voice just above a whisper she said, “We don’t hate your child, but we are beginning to hate you.  If you don’t leave the theatre now I can’t be responsible for what this crowd may do to you.”  This may not be an exact quote but the sentiment was clear.  The lady took the child and left the theatre.  This is the niece that is much like me.  She belongs to the sister that hates me.  See I think God is making her deal with me whether she likes it or not.  Since she won’t have anything to do with me she is being forced to raise a child that is just like me.  I am just thankful that I didn’t have to raise a child just like her!  I had enough to deal with.  Back to the movie though, if you want to see a truly funny horror film that will still make you jump enough times to significantly raise your adrenaline levels go see Drag Me to Hell.  It is totally worth the price of a ticket.

 

I know I have been a little lazy with my blogging lately, but I had to drive to Branson today and that allowed me plenty of time to think.  I can pretty much solve the world’s problems when I am left to think on my own.  I pondered world peace and the stupidity of republicans…then I went for a truly serious subject…slow traffic.

If I could make a law regarding other drivers on the road, I would insist that everyone use cruise control.  I think speeds should be maintained within a five mile plus or minus.  I always set my cruise.  I primarily do it because I have a lead foot.  I tend to speed, especially in my car.  I set the cruise between five and nine miles over the limit and try not to brake unless I absolutely have to.  However; when you travel down highway 412 in the summer you have to allow for hay trucks and old folks.  Hay trucks can’t go fast, and old people won’t…and God help you if you get an old person driving a hay truck.  You’d better have picnic supplies because you aren’t going anywhere.

I got behind a Ford Taurus that couldn’t make up his mind about his speed.  He drove fast down hill and near passing lanes and slowed down considerably when going up hill and in no passing zones.  The Taurus passed me more times than I care to think about while I was going down hill and then I was stuck behind them on the uphill climb.  As soon as a passing lane was open, I would pass again and the cycle would repeat.  I was traveling at a steady 60ish miles per hour.  I would say that the speed of the Taurus was between 45 and 70. 

I have a niece (well, actually I have several) who can’t stand to be behind anyone else on the road.  My sister says that her problem is she can’t stand not being the lead dog.  I think a lot of people have those issues.  I can’t stand to be behind a semi.  My car is little and I can’t see around them, but for the most part I just stay back and let the semi stay in front.  I pretend that I am caught in some kind of wake and tell myself that I am making a significant savings on my gas mileage.  Whether or not this is true I have no way of knowing.  It really doesn’t matter much.  I can convince myself of anything when I put my mind to it.  I am currently in the process of convincing myself that I still look like I’m in my thirties and my weight is just fine.  It’s a work in progress.

When I finally got off of the two lane roads and hit the interstate things got a little better.  At this point my  mind veered away from cruise control and onto why people slow down when they see a police cruiser parked on the shoulder of the road.  Unless you can see for miles ahead of you, you are pretty much busted by the time you see the car.  The other thing is if the cop has a car stopped by the roadside…he’s busy.  He won’t be paying attention to your speeding ass.  I’m not advocating ripping by at mach 10.  He might decide you are bigger fish than the one he has caught if you attempt that.  But if you are cool and just keep on going you’ll be fine.  It also helps if you can cry on command.  I have gotten out of a lot tickets using the tears.

Any way….on the drive home my hubby was with me and there is no sitting still and just thinking when you are in the car with Boppy.  You will be regaled with golf stories.  You will be asked a thousand times what’s up or what’s wrong.  I just keep a crossword book in the car and keep him busy by doing crosswords.  That is usually good for trips under two hours.  More than that and all bets are off.  So here’s Sloopy’s laws of the road:

1. Always use cruise control on road trips

2. Always keep something in the car to entertain the children

3. Maintain your composure if you see a cop

4.  If you can’t manage rules 1 - 3 stay the hell away from me

That’s all.  I have vented and I feel better.  I hope you can see where I’m coming from and if you can’t…to hell with you.  I am allowed to geel however I want to feel.  Deal.

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