I have told my children more times than I care to think about, “I can’t hear myself think.”  It was usually in the middle of a spat or when they were especially rowdy.  I never actually meant it though.  Yesterday was different.  Yesterday we hosted the largest Thanksgiving we had ever hosted.  We had mom, two of my three sisters, a brother-in-law, three nieces and their spouses, a nephew and his new wife, three of my four kids, The Precious, five of my great nieces and nephews, my very dear, very southern friend who lives down the street, Boppy and myself for Thanksgiving dinner.

No one, now listen dear ones for this is important, no one in my family is shy.  When I get together with all my sisters it is usually the loudest who is heard so we have all learned the art of shouting.  The shouting also helps due to the fact that some of us have inherited mother’s limited hearing.  I wished yesterday that I had been blessed with that limitation.  Everyone was in the kitchen.  It is truly the heart of our home.  On Thanksgiving everyone brings a covered dish and we provide the bread, potatoes, and meat.  That way no one is responsible for bearing the brunt of the meal.  The downside to this is that everyone has to deposit their dish in the kitchen and since that is where the food is that is where everyone congregates. 

I had asked that everyone arrive sometime around two in the afternoon.  Everyone was prompt.  I had finished the meats by one o’clock so that the ovens would be empty for reheating anything brought in.  Boppy began carving the turkey at two.  The ham was to follow.  I was placing the meats on platters as he cut, and even with him standing elbow to elbow with me we couldn’t hear each other.  I began to say something to him, and I realized the noise had reached a level that affected my ability to put together sentences.  I had finally reached a point where “I couldn’t hear myself think.”  I knew how to quiet these people and I was working to do that very thing.  You see, the way to quiet our family is…feed them.  By 2:30 the only noises you could hear were utensils clanging together and gnoshing.  It didn’t last long though.  By 3:00 the fastest eaters were wondering who was going to cut the desserts.  I learned that the men in my family can carve turkeys, but can’t cut a piece of pie or cake.   I mean that.  My hubby can slice turkey so thin you can see through it.  Give him a pie of cake to cut and it is going to be so badly butchered you have to cut another piece just to even up the cuts.

There was one year, a while back, when the hubby and I were scheduled to take a cruise that was going to occur over the Thanksgiving holiday.  We volunteered our house to the family.  We did this for two reasons.  Number one was that our house is large enough to accommodate all of these people, and the second reason is plain continuity.  We have been having Thanksgiving at our home for probably the better part of eight years.  I think that it is a tradition that needs to continue for as long as possible.  I enjoy having everyone over one day a year.  I just sometimes forget how much I enjoy it while it is actually happening.  As I was standing by Boppy I told him, “you know…if we took a cruise next year we would be gone while all of this was happening.  I hear that Greece is beautiful this time of year.”  Without skipping a beat Boppy replied, “if you take a cruise at Thanksgiving you just have to go to Turkey.”  My witty brother-in-law suggested we go to both locations then we would have greasy turkey…(by witty I meant punny).

Shouting adults, yapping women, men who were shouting about football scores, screaming children upset about the cooler temperatures that kept them inside, and all of the other stuff that is family aside, we truly had a great Thanksgiving.  Our family has a lot to be thankful for.  My very dear, very southern friend who lives down the street called me after returning home to thank me for inviting her.  This was her first Thanksgiving with no children of her own in attendance.  She told me she really enjoyed my family.  Especially the little ones.  I told her that I was glad that she enjoyed herself.  I told her that she had been adopted and now they were her family too.  She sighed and told me, “there sure are a lot of them!”  Truer words were never spoken…and it we ain’t seen all of ‘em yet!.

My very dear, very southern, friend who lives down the street celebrated her 70th birthday on Thursday.  I volunteered to hostess her birthday party.  We invited her three closest friends on the block and we all went out to lunch.  Afterwards we had cake and coffee at my house.  I never thought I would know so much about the “widders” on the block, but you would be surprised what old women talk about when they are egged on just a bit.

It started with the drive to Rogers.  When my very dear, very southern, friend came in to the house to tell me that everyone was waiting in the car for me to drive them to lunch.  She said Miss J. is in the front seat.  “She is always in the front seat.  She just refuses to give it up to anyone!”  In the back, beside my friend, was Miss Jo (who is almost completely deaf despite the two hearing aids she wears), and Miss M.  As I was walking out the door I could hear them shouting at one another.  I thought their might be a brouhaha going on, but it was just the voice they speak in when Miss Jo is around.  I sat down in the driver’s seat and asked if anyone needed to tee-tee, because I wasn’t stopping along the way.  I quickly found out that not only had they gone before they left, but at least 2 of them were wearing panty shields just in case there was any leakage.

Let me say right now that many laughs were concealed by coughs as I drove these ladies to lunch.  Now we are talking about very pristine little Catholic women who it seems wouldn’t say shit, if they had a mouthful.  Their hair is done regularly by a beautician.  Their clothing was impeccable.  The things that came out of their mouths was hilarious.  The first laugh came when Miss J began to tell me that she didn’t know why. but whenever they went anywhere everyone insisted she sit up front.  “I’ve offered over and over again, but no one seems to want to sit up here.  I think they think this is my place.”  I had my first coughing fit then and there.  I quickly realized that the car was divided into two sections.  In the front seat, Miss J and I had our own conversations.  In the back seat, due to Miss Jo’s hearing deficit, an entirely different conversation was going on.  It was loud too!  Miss Jo never realized when anyone else was talking.  So you could be having a wonderful discussion, think Carrie Prejean, when she would start talking about something entirely different.  She never realized that she was interrupting anyone’s conversation.  She thought she was just keeping conversation alive.

When we arrived at the restaurant, I pulled up to the curb and allowed the ladies to disembark, then I parked the car and walked to meet them.  I can’t begin to tell you how much this impressed them.  They went on and on about how sweet that was.  I don’t think that they were really overly impressed with how sweet it was as much as they were amazed that the Queen of Halloween had manners.  We proceeded into the  dining facility and were placed in one of the corner booths that was semi-circular.  We scooched in.  With women in their 70’s and 80’s this is less of a scooch and more of a really, really, slow butt walk.  Finally we were all seated and I passed out the menus.  The conversation quickly turned to “what sounds good?”  When the food was delivered the conversation became, “yours looks better.”  Somewhere between the two the conversation turned to whether or not it was best to sleep in panties.  I now know who does and doesn’t sleep in their panties.  I also know who sleeps in big, ol’ cotton panties and who sleeps in nylon panties with cotton crotches.  They are all big…thank God!  With all those panty liners I would hope they would have plenty of material to stick to.  I had trouble sleeping that night.  I saw vision of huge cotton bloomers with wings flying at my head.

After eating, we went to Belk’s to shop.  My very dear, very southern friend who lives down the street was looking for a quilt rack.  Or as she said, “you know, one of those racks that you put quilts on.”  To which I replied, “A quilt rack.”  An embarassed, “yeah, that’s what I was thinking about” followed.  Once again I drove them up to the doors and let them out.  Miss M made sure that everyone synchronized their watches and demanded that everyone meet up at the shoe department in 30 minutes.  Then they scattered like leaves in the wind.  At promptly 2:30 p.m. all five of us were in the shoe department, and I told the ladies that I would go get the car and meet them out front.  I sat in the car for at least five minutes waiting for them to come out.   I wondered why, when they were all gathered in one place, why their migration took so long.  Then they leaked out the door, kind of like honey on a cold day, and I realized that might be part of it.  The conversation that was taking place as they entered completely solved the mystery.  They were checking receipts to see who had saved more money.  An ah ha moment followed.

We headed home and the conversations rolled.  Miss J and I talked about current events and The View.  I have no idea what the conversations in the back consisted of, other than the fact that Sarah Palin’s book had already reached the discount bin at Borders.  That conversation made it to both sections of the car.  Four out of five had no interest what so ever in the book.  Miss M is quoted as saying, “I learned enough of her crap when she was running for office.”  I also got snippets of a conversation that seemed to be about Miss M hating the word pee.  Apparently piss is okay, but not pee.    We arrived home for cake and coffee.  The cake was gluten free and we all tasted with apprehension.  My very dear, very southern friend, who lives down the street has celiac disease.  The cake was delicious so we had several conversations about the cake, and how you couldn’t tell the difference.  Then there was the argument of who was taking cake home.  “I’m full.  I don’t need any more cake.”  “Take some.  You can eat it later.”  “I bet I could freeze it, and just thaw it out when I want it.”  “It would last in the refrigerator for at least a week.”  And so on, but when the time came all the cake was divied out.  As they left my home, I gave each a hug and told them what fun I had.  I was quickly informed that they had decided we should do this once a month.  I was to be the driver.   Then they filed out.  As they were walking down the sidewalk, I hear Miss J say to the others, “our conversations are much livelier with Sloopy than they are on our own.”  One final coughing spell and I shut the door.

I really did have a good time with the “widders”.  My mother didn’t join us for lunch, but she came over for birthday cake.  I asked her to seriously consider going with us the next time, and she said she thought she would probably go.  Now mom and Miss Jo can shout at each other and the rest of us can talk quietly.  I hadn’t been home long when the phone rang.  My very dear, very southern friend, who lives down the street wanted to thank me for a wonderful birthday.  “Everything was just perfect!”, she gushed.  I told her how happy I was that she had a good time, and hung up the phone.  Shortly after that the doorbell rang and one of my new friends had brought me a little treat to thank me for hostessing the party.  I graciously accepted, invited her in, and she declined.  As I turned away from the door once again, I began to wonder if they viewed me as “one of the girls” or a child that they tolerated.  After much consideration, I realized I just don’t want to know.

I hate the commercials that are shown at Christmas.  They make almost everyone feel like a total douche.  The worst is the whole “he went to Jared” hype.  You know the ones with the girls on the cell phones, or the moms listening in the kitchen, or the newest of the group…the kids watching mom and dad make out because “he went to Jared’s”  Puke!  Oh sure, in this economy men all over the world are running to the jewelry store to buy mega diamonds for their wives.  I mean it’s tough enough buying for the kids, parents, and grandchildren but now men are made to feel like if they can’t afford diamonds they are losers.  It’s like all the relentless toy ads aimed at children.  Of course they want, want, want.  They are small and they don’t understand.  But so many commercials are aimed at adults who can barely afford to pay the mortgage and of course they would love to buy diamonds for their significant others.   They just can’t.

I have seen enough Lexus’s with big bows on their heads for a lifetime.  I have to admit, my hubby did buy me a car for our anniversary several years ago.  In nine years I have put 35,000 miles on that car.  I love it to pieces, but I don’t need another and I certainly don’t need a Lexus.  Why aren’t hybrids being pushed more.  Why aren’t we looking for fuel efficient vehicles?  I have yet to see a Prius with a big bow on its head.  My husband and I agree that if we need to buy a new car we will only consider hybrid models.  How many people does Lexus think are going, “Hey, what a great idea.  Let’s put a $50,000 vehicle under the tree”.  I see going to Jared’s as a much more affordable solution than a Lexus, but still too much.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I have nothing against jewelry as a gift.  I have been the receipient of several gifts of jewelry.  They always get the appropriate response.  I have ooohed and ahhed over every piece I have ever been given, and they are all treasured gifts. However; in this economy, it is irresponsible to buy mammoth Christmas gifts.  It’s time we all learned a lesson from those who survived The Great Depression and learn to cut back.  I have cut way back on Christmas over the last few years.  There are less gifts in general,  and those that I do buy I try to buy on sale.  I started way back when, buying gifts so I could budget the money over a longer period of time.  We are trying so hard to pay off our credit cards that adding to them would be ridiculous.  Rather than spend more money in December I have allowed myself X number of dollars per month and have shopped a little each month for the last four months.  I’m not preaching…I just feel that even if you have the money it’s ridiculous to waste it. 

Apparently the PR guys at Jared’s think that we will fold to the power of advertising.  The stupid Jared’s commercials are about as frequent as the roadside signs begging you to visit Wall Drug.  I refuse to give in!  I have told my hubby not to buy me anything that has a power cord but I have fed him tons of things I would like to have for Christmas that are under $50.  He has terrific taste, and I’m not concerned at all that he won’t go to Jared’s.  For one thing, we don’t even have a Jared’s but if we did he knows I would much rather have something more sensible.  I don’t want to feel guilty about any gifts I receive.  I don’t want the children to buy us gifts.  They need their money.  I don’t want my mom to give us gifts of food (which she will) 1. because we are dieting, and 2. because she has been having pain in her shoulders and she shouldn’t be cooking.  I am making presents for my friends and sisters.  I think there is a lot to be said for something that was homemade.  It means the person loved you enough to take time out of their life to create something for you.  Give me that any day. 

The best part of Christmas is the look of wonder in a small child’s face when they see the Christmas lights.  So if you don’t have one, use the money you save not going to Jared’s to rent one.  The first real Christmas The Precious remembers was last year.  He wanted to take all the ornaments (balls) off the tree and throw them.  But can you imagine a tree filled with his favorite toy?  He was so intensely happy that we had created a “ball” tree just for him (at least in his mind).  He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the other trimmings.  Yes, he loved opening his presents, but it was the tree that occupied his mind.  My girls appreciate their Christmas stocking from Santa the most.  My vag. daughter has said it’s because their is never the same thing in them.  My non-vag. daughter says she loves it for the same reason.  We have everything from gag gifts to actually nice gifts in the stockings.  The stockings are from Santa so it allows even the adults to feel like a kid again.

I love Christmas.  I love the family time.  I love trading recipes at Christmas potlucks.   I love the Christmas lights.  I love having everyone home.  I love everything about it…except all of those commercials.  When it comes to getting it at Jared’s I say bah-humbug!!!

 

 

Okay, here is the problem.  I can’t blog for playing on Pogo.  My sister-in-law tuned me in to this, and I will never forgive her.  If you are one of the three people on earth who haven’t heard of Pogo, here’s how it works.  You log on and play games.  You can create an avatar and play as them or you can just play.  You can buy a membership and it has certain rewards, or you can just play for free. 

At first I played for free, and then I found out that if you get a membership you win double the amount if you hit a jackpot.  Of course I signed up toot sweet.  I have never even come close to winning the jackpot.  I won a scooter and some other crap for my avatar, but nothing good.  I probably never will either.  I don’t use my membership the same way my non vag sister does.  She gets on it and chats with friends from across the country.  I get on it and play games. 

My first goal was to reach one million points.  Done.  I have nothing to show for it except one million points and a lot of time wasted playing games.  Now don’t get me wrong.  I enjoyed the games.  I look forward to each Wednesday when new games are posted that (if won) reward your completion of the task with a badge.  The thing with Wednesdays is this…two new challenges are released and you win the badge for finishing a challenge.  I always do this.  I can’t do anything else until I win the damned badges.  I mean that quite literally.  I usually finish both challenges on Wednesday.  I don’t clean.  I don’t do laundry.  I don’t pee.  I just complete my challenges.  Now before you go off thinking that I am just really competitive by nature, let me say that I don’t strive for top scores.  It doesn’t matter.  The thing that is important to  me is getting what is coming to me.  I win a badge…I want a badge.  I don’t need the albums that they want you to pay for to put your badges in.  I just want the damn badge.  Don’t get me wrong, I would absolutely love to win some money.  I’m not an idiot.  However, I don’t expect to win the money.  I expect to win the badge.  It’s not competition…it’s OCD.  I am obsessive about completing the challenges.  Don’t talk to me while I am pursuing a badge.  Don’t ask me to help you with a problem…you just think you have problems.  For God’s sake, don’t expect me to get up off my ass and do something else.  I don’t suffer fools lightly.  If you really expect things to get done on a Wednesday, you better just do them yourself.  I have a mission, and I will not fail.

I occasionally chat with the folks playing some game I’m trying to win a badge for  (I sound kind of like a girl scout.  Don’t I?)  More often than not I eaves drop on some poor unfortunate soul who is chatting their life away with someone they may or may not know.  Sure sometimes when they address Cheesypeasy421 as mom, I can tell they know one another.  Which brings me to a whole different thing.   The userid’s these people come up with.  Mine is shelby and my house number.  The people who know me can probably figure out who I am by that userid.  However what does that say about windysuzi, willowchina, and pontiacprowess?  At least mine is repeatable in public without having people snicker.  I never use an id that is too sweetie-sweetie, or dirty…and believe me I could have.  boppysbaby would make one vomit in one’s mouth a little, and gr8lay is probably taken so I just did the best I could.  At least if my daughter wants to log in with my id I don’t have to tell her my id is cootchscratcher5.

So if you don’t hear from me for awhile, I’m probably not dead.  I am probably wasting time trying to win a useless badge on Pogo.  I am at my computer, but I am not functioning as a human.  I am an automaton who mindlessly presses keys in hopes of winning a prize only I can see and will never ever improve my community or society in general.  I am not saying this to be pitied.  After all, I do have more than one million points to my credit.  I am saying this so you will understand why I am erratic.  Hi, my name is Sloopy and I have an addiction.  I play computer games…a lot.  There is probably a 12 step program for me but I won’t go.  I’m too busy trying to get my Johnny Jump Up’s Junior Gymnast badge.  Who can make time to attend meetings with that kind of pressure?  Besides…no one reads this crap anyway!!

Let me start by saying thank you to all of you who commented that you hoped I was feeling better soon.  I am.  The first best day was Saturday and the improvement has continued to the point that I no longer have any reason to put off housework.  I am always pleased when I receive comments, and those were especially welcomed.

Now, to the business at hand.  I decided on Saturday to ask the kids if they would like to take The Precious to the zoo on Sunday.  No.  We weren’t leaving him there.  We were visiting.  It seemed like the perfect weekend.  Temperatures have been in the low 70’s and the days have been sunny.  I was afraid if we delayed much longer we wouldn’t be so lucky.  They agreed and Sunday morning we took off.  I want it placed in print that I love my grandson so much I woke up at 8:00 a.m. on a Sunday when the Colts were playing just to take him to the zoo.  They arrived promptly at 10:00.  I had a crisis to manage and The Precious quickly grew tired of waiting on me and said “let’s get going.”  I threw the rest of my crap in a bag and off we went.  First we had to go pick up the family car since it has a Pike Pass in it.  The Precious was not amused that we had sidetracked.  He was zoo bound and hell bent.

We stopped in Siloam Springs for lunch and to wait for my son to join us.  This did not go over well.  We were told often that The Precious did not want lunch.  He wanted the zoo and only the zoo.  As fate would have it, he fell asleep in the car prior to arriving at the zoo.  He got about a 30 minute nap.  I was concerned that he would awaken in a foul mood, but he was too excited to be cranky.  He couldn’t get out of his car seat fast enough.  He had gone to sleep with a KC Chiefs stocking cap on his head and we took pictures of the fabulous “bed” head he was sporting as we took off on our adventure.  He did comment on the fact that he couldn’t see the animals from the parking lot, but was cooperative enough when we told him he would need to go inside to see the critters.

Our first stop was the ticket booth.  The ticket agent asked if we would like tickets to ride the train.  Well, I didn’t even ask.  I know how The Precious is about trains, so I just purchased round-trip tokens and went on through the turnstile with The Precious in hand.  About a half dozen steps in, he saw the train tracks.  Five seconds later he heard the whistle.  The excitement in his eyes was unmistakable.  He turned to me and said in a voice of pure astonishment, “a train!”  “Do you want to ride it?” “Yeth!” and off we went to find the train.  We arrived at the depot and curly-qeued our way through line.  We were in the front row.  The Precious was practically shivering with anticipation.  “Where’s the train?” was followed by “I gonna ride the train.”  I’m sure it seemed like an eternity to the two year old, but it was probably five minutes or less before the train could be seen winding down the track.  The Precious was standing on the fence top looking down the track when he spotted the train.  He was actually quivering with excitement.  “Where do you want to sit?”  “The front!”  The line began to move forward.  His little finger pointed stiffly at the front of the train, “this way Emmy, this way.” as we headed to the front of the train.  We reached the second from the front seats in the first car and I was just placing his little bottom in the seat when claws dug into my shoulder and toes clenched my waist.  “No!!!! I don’t want to ride it”  It was one of those guttural screams of primal fear.  “How about if you sit on Emmy’s lap?”  “No!!  No train.  I don’t want it.”  Even as I reconciled myself to the fact that this train would be ridden by The Precious only over my dead body, he was still screaming and crying.  Of course we all exited the train and went on to see what we could see.

Across from the train, stood a merry-go-round.  With his eye on the tiger he strode forward with the same excitement I had just witnessed.  “I gonna ride a tiger!”  A little wiser this time, I held his hand as we approached the line.  He was by far the smallest rider on the ride.  He kept trying to cut in front of the other children, and I kept telling him, “it’s not your turn.”  To which he solemnly replied, “not my turn.”  Finally the child in front of him passed through the gate and his angelic little face looked at me and smiled as he said, “my turn!”  By this time everyone in line had heard that this child would be riding the tiger so all of the other children stood clear so that he could have it.  We walked across the platform towards the tiger, and just as I started to place his precious little butt in the seat…  Well, I did manage to get him to sit on the bench.   I thought we were going to bail when the ride finally started moving, but he was fine…until about the third time around.  At that point the new had worn off and he was ready to hit solid ground.  Needless to say when we reached the camel (which you could ride) and he said he wanted to ride the camel, we just walked on by.

Finally, we were on our way to view the animals.  The first thing he saw was a giraffe.  He was amazed.  It was across the zoo, and not on the path we were taking but he had seen it and it was good.  We reached the elephant encounter amid statements of “I don’t want the efelant!”  When he saw the beast he changed his mind.  The amazement was clear upon his face…and then, the best thing happened.  The efelant peed.  We had already been discussing the enormous poop and how stinky it was and then it peed.  I have never seen anyone so excited by kidney emissions.  He couldn’t stop looking, and when it was time to go see another animal he wasn’t ready.  That was pretty much the norm.  He didn’t want to see whatever we were looking at, and when we were ready to leave, he wasn’t through.
He had the best time.  He had his mommy, daddy, and Emmy and all the animals at the zoo.  Life just couldn’t have gotten much better.  He ran his little legs down to nubs.  He chased some type of exotic bird through the bird house.  He bossed us all around.  He marched through the Tulsa zoo with just the same determination that took Sherman through Atlanta.  He was ordering his troops, and we were obeying.  His own personal ride (moi) occasionally tried to pass him off to his parents.  Sometimes it worked, but just as often it didn’t.  His mother tried to take him from me at one point and he told her, “I need my Emmy!”  Well I would have to be one hard hearted bitch to turn my back on that.  His cranky factor increased as the day went on and by the time the zoo closed at 5:00 we were all ready to get back into the car.  He lasted about 20 minutes and then he was sound asleep, before he went to sleep we stopped at a Sinclair station and it had one of the old green dinosaurs out front.  The Precious wanted to ride the dinosaurs.  I placed him on the creature and his daddy took his picture.  We placed him back in the car and he soon nodded off.  When we arrived in Siloam Springs to pick up his daddy’s car he sat bolt upright and said, “I ride the dinosaur.”  After that he settled back into his car seat for a quiet ride home.  He woke up when the car stopped and went in to tell Boppy and Ninna what he had seen.  The poop was mentioned first, but when asked about the animals he would tell them about them.  I asked him at one point what his favorite animals was that he had seen.  Not missing a beat he said, “the rabbit.”  No one else had seen a rabbit, but we were all pleased that he had enjoyed it.  Even if it was a little Harveyesque.

One little aside to parents…as we were standing at the tiger exhibit and watching the majestic cats, a squirrel ran across the grass and six or seven children stopped looking at the exhibits (including The Precious) and screamed “squirrel!”  So the next time you want to take your kids to see wild animals you might just want to go out back and look up in the trees.

One little aside to the designers of small zoos…don’t build a playground in the middle of the park.  Parents always have a limited time to try and get their children through the zoo before it closes.  If they have to take two hours out of the day to watch their children play on the playground it is harder to manage.  In addition, if we wanted to watch our children play on the playground we could do so for free much closer to home.

I got up this afternoon (usual for me) had my coffee and breakfast which I made for myself then showered, put on makeup, and dressed in something other than pajamas.  Then the biggest miracle occurred, I got in my car and left the house.  While it’s true that I didn’t go anywhere spectacular, I went to the post office and Wal-Mart, I got up and went.  My poor little car whined like it had arthritis too and was pissed that I was making it move. 

My non-vag. daughter called today to ask when I thought I would be up to seeing The Precious.  I told her I was getting there.  Maybe tomorrow, maybe Sunday I would have enough juice in my battery to keep up (sorta) with a two year old.  I didn’t do full out shopping.  I picked up few enough things that I could check out in the express lane.  It took longer than usual for me to complete the task, but part of that was just the joy of seeing other human beings and walking among the living.  It’s really sad when you get excited about going to Wal-Mart.  The Precious loves it.  The Precious thinks that anytime anyone is going anywhere it’s Wal-Mart.  Today  I was visiting with our next door neighbors who have two little girls.  The youngest is the same age as The Precious and the older child is four.  They came bouncing out of the house excited to see their Daddy because it was date night.  I thought they were excited about going on a date with their daddy.  In truth, date night is a Friday night once a month when the daycare they attend opens for three hours in the evening for $4.00 an hour.  The date is for mommy and daddy.  Their mom said they get really excited because they get to play with other children at night.  She said the only other place they really get to go is to dance class once a week.  I told her I understood.  The Precious apparently thinks the only place he gets to go is to school and Wal-Mart.  Then I had to correct myself because I was on the phone with him last night and he told me he had to go.  Of course I asked where, expecting to hear Wal-Mart, when I was told, “I’m going hunting.”  I asked him if he had a gun and he said, “I gotta bow.”  I told my neighbor that at least her daughters were learning the arts.  I felt The Precious’ chances might be somewhat limited what with going only to Wal-Mart and hunting.  Not all chicks dig men who think going to Wal-Mart qualifies as a date.  There dad said that he actually took them on a date night not too long ago.  He took them to Red Lobster.  He said about half way into the meal he noticed people staring at him.  I told him they probably thought he was a single dad who had his kids for the weekend.  He said he didn’t think so.  He said there might have been some of that, but mostly it was men looking at him as if to say, “dude, now my wife is going to expect me to take the kids out alone.”

Anyway, I know that I am euphoric at the idea of being able to leave the house because the people at Wal-Mart didn’t even annoy me.  I even had a pleasant cashier…with all her teeth.  She commented that she liked my glasses (I was wearing pink rhinestone readers at the time) and said, “have a great weekend” when I left.  No one had placed a shopping cart in my parking place or behind my car.  No one had parked so close to my car that I wished I had left the top down so I could get in.  Everything was good.  The stars were all aligned and the moon was in the seventh house and Jupiter aligned with Mars…..you know.

I’m sure that in no time people will annoy me and I will be back to my bitchy best, but for now you will have to deal with this totally ridiculous person I have become in my “delicate situation.”  It won’t last long.  People have a real way of pissing on my parade.

 

I don’t think it’s H1N1.  I think it’s N1out1.  There seems to be something either going in or coming out of every conceivable place on my body.  My head isn’t congested anymore.  My chest is tighter than a nun’s cootch.  I have had either the chills or the sweats since Sunday.  My throat is no longer sore from being a sore throat.  Now it is sore from being constantly shredded from coughing.  I sat up for a little while today.  I was on the toilet at the time.

My non vag. daughter was sick last week.  She managed to go to work everyday.  She sort of sounded like I sound, but she worked out, went to work, and took care of a 2 year old.  I kind of hate her.

Sorry if that was shouting.  My ears are full of fluid and so is my brain.  There is so much roaring going on in there that I can’t hear myself think and thus tend to shout my typing.  Please forgive me.  As if all the flu crap wasn’t enough I am emotionally dehydrated as well.  I have nothing of value to give to those around me, and unfortunately said things I didn’t mean to my daughter this afternoon.  Things I can’t take back and for which she will never forgive me.  It is good that she knows I love her.  At least that may temper some of my words (I’m afraid not though).

I called the doctor’s office on Monday and he called some things in for me.  Boppy picked them up for me Monday afternoon.  However, I know that if this crap is viral nothing will help but time.  Speaking of Boppy, he has been harder to find than a bone in a puppy kennel.  He breezes in with a quick, “can I get you anything?”  Then practically runs out the door before he hears my response.  Which is a very deep Kathleen Turner versions of “Doe Danks”.  I think my daughter made a very delicious roasted vegetable soup for dinner last night.  I got hints of salt from the rich gravy looking broth, and sweet from the roasted onions.  Boppy said it was excellent and he is kind of picky.  Our daughter really didn’t comment much one way or the other, but then again she was the cook.  Food never tastes as good when you cook it yourself.  Or when you can’t taste it.

I have gotten caught up on some excellent television.  Please, like there is such a thing in the daytime.   We record our night time programs so I can watch them with a clear head.  We ordered a movie once.  I’m not sure of the day.  I fell asleep before it had more than begun.  I was ordered to bed, and I went slowly up the stairs.  I woke up at some point in the night with my face glued to my pillow.  I like to believe it was Hall’s cough drops slobber and not snot that held me there.  Hall’s juice is bad enough. 

Anyway, just wanted to let you know why I hadn’t been blogging lately.  I’ll report back when I feel better.  If you haven’t heard from me in a week or so, watch for vultures.