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Kessa and Keelan were sitting at the breakfast table working on some scrap-booking project that has been in the works for days.  I had finished sweeping and was running my new Haan Steam Mop around on the tile, as I had just finished doing the living room.  They were talking kind of low and I wasn’t really paying any attention to them when I heard gales of laughter and Keelan saying, “Tell Mom!  Tell Mom!”  Kessa was having a hard time finding her voice she was laughing so hard but managed to shake her head vehemently.

Then, she managed to pull herself together enough to look at me and say, “The other day I took that thing, (referring to the steam mop), upstairs and tried to vacuum with it.”  She had the decency to look a bit embarrassed as her sister and I burst into fresh gales of laughter.  I told her that I didn’t know whether to be proud of her for voluntarily cleaning up there or disturbed by her lack of knowledge of the household cleaning appliances.

Oh, she said it did NOT vacuum well at all.

• Jeeze!  We need to water the lawn!  It is dying out there!  But, on the plus side… we haven’t mowed in about a month.

• John was off for two days in a row and the house looks like… Bosnia.   I never get any of the usual laundry and picking up done when he’s off work cause I spend most of my time with him just cause I usually can.  He’s almost never off two days in a row and he practically never takes a weekend day so the caregiver provider lady is usually here with H.  Which means we are out and about.

• I need to move the critter feed in closer to the house where it’ll be in the shade along with the water bowl.  The Cardinals and Blue Jays, squirrels  and a pair of doves have taken that thing over.

• The girls and I were standing around in the kitchen and we all received texts from John at about the same time saying exactly the same thing.  “What’s up?  How’s it going?”

We had a good laugh about it and all wrote back and sent the messages at the exact same time saying, “You triple texted us!  No fair!  We want our own original, personalized messages!”  He wrote back and said, “LOL” to one girl, “LOL, OK” to the other girl and, “LMAO!”, to me.

Heh.  He’s trying.

• Stupid Microsoft!  Those rat bastards have pissed me off!  If there was every any question about us buying a Mac the next time we purchase a computer, it has been answered.  We have a Microsoft keyboard that is in fine working order and has no problem at all except that one of the two little plastic feet that make it elevate in the back of it has broken off.  These feet fold under, (for some reason I can’t figure), and the one that is missing simply broke and came off.

I think no problem, right?  I mean I have located many different 800 numbers for large companies before to get replacement parts to things that have broken, and in my experience, not only do they send the part immediately, but I have never even been charged shipping,  for the part.

I remember when my kids were little and a piece of their Little Tykes kitchen would get chewed up by the dog or lost, I would call the 800 number on the kitchen and they happily sent me whatever was asked for.  Free.

Most recently I had a problem with our Kohler faucet and called them and told them what was happening.  They diagnosed the problem and sent me several new things to swap out on it. Free.

Do you think Microsoft was this accommodating? The little man was a bit of a jerk and said, “No, you’ll have to buy a new keyboard.”  They don’t replace parts.

I bet Apple does.

• The other day I went into Keelan’s room and she was playing Fable on her game system thing and I sat down and asked her the basic questions anyone as video-stupid as me would ask.

OK Keelan, soooo, who are you?

I’m the dude fighting the Boverines.

Your a guy?

Yeah, I wanted to be a guy this time.  And I bought him all those tattoos.

I see… and he’s bald.

Yeah.  He’s bald, but it looks good on him, don’t you think?  I mean he’s really buff.

Oh, yeah.  He’s hot.  So are you a good guy or a bad guy, cause he seems to be whacking everything with that sword….?

Well, I can pick either one, and this time I chose to be a bad guy, but actually I’m a bit bipolar, cause I do something nice every now and then.

And about this time a sweet, little maiden-looking person showed up on screen and  a heart popped up over her head as she clasped her hands together and gazed at our buff, bald, tattoo riddled warrior.  As the words, “Oh, look… she’s in love with you!”, escaped my mouth, Keelan’s guy whipped around and slugged her.  With his fist!  And as Keelan said, “Yeah, she’s stupid and I don’t want to get married this time.”, the maiden said, “Oh!  That’s not nice… what’s wrong?”

I guess that chick really was stupid.

As most of you who have been hanging in there with me for a while probably know, Mither and Pop are my lifelong loves.   My mommy and daddy from the get-go.

I think I alluded to the fact that Pop adopted me when I was five years old in a previous post… actually I can’t remember and don’t really feel like going and looking for it.   But, trust me, he did!

As soon as he and Mither got married, they took me up to the courthouse and the nice judge, (a friend of Pop’s), swore me in and explained everything to me, (one more time).  He said some words and reminded me which hand was my right one and showed me how to hold it up while we took our oaths.   I took Pop to be my father and he took me to be his daughter.  It was all pretty cool and I felt like a big shot.  I looked for any reason I could find for ages, to call him “Daddy” , and when I’d forget and call him Bill, I’d slap my hand over my mouth and squirm until I could think of something else to tell him so that I could use the word “Daddy”.   He’s been my daddy ever since.  The only father I’ve ever known.

Mom, (you know her as Mither), and my natural father divorced when I was a baby, shortly after my older brother was killed in a drunk driving accident with my father behind the wheel.  He was an alcoholic and my brother, Kurt had been standing in the front seat beside him.  Kurt was 22 months old.  I was three months old.  Mither and I weren’t in the car.

I had nothing to do with my natural father my entire life, with the exception of one meeting with him when I was in college.  He came to the town my college was in and met me at the little  Mexican restaurant.  He paid the bill after supper and with the exception of giving my dad permission to adopt me, that’s all he ever did for me after he and Mither divorced.

I learned around that time of two half sisters I have and even had a conversation on the phone with them.  They were much younger than I was, but it was very interesting to talk to them, and they seemed really nice.

I never really gave it much of a thought again, or at least not enough to really look hard for them.

Fast forward to a few days ago when Mither called me and said that she was cleaning some things out and found some old letters from my father and some photographs of my half sisters and she would mail them all to me.

The little girl’s pictures are decades old, and  and yellowed.  They appear to be from the early 80’s.

The letters are full of drama and a good deal of angst.  They are really very much like my mither described my father.

There were some phone numbers in one of the letters and I picked the one that looked like it was  possibly where he was working at the time and called it.  It was his AA group, but the guy that answered the phone knew him and said he was dead.  He had died 10 or 12 years ago.  This took the wind out of my sails just a bit.  How was I going to find my half sisters now?  The man was really very nice and friendly and said he knew some people who knew my father better than he did and he’d get my number to them.

In just a few minutes the phone rang and another nice man told me over and over how sorry he was that I was just finding out he was dead, and I finally made him understand that really, I only met the guy the one time.

He told me that he’d give my number to my father’s ex-brother-in-law and he felt sure that he or my father’s ex-wife would call me back.

Sure enough, again in a few minutes, the phone rang and it was a nice lady that used to be married to him.  She said that he had died of lung cancer in 1993, but said that my grandmother was still alive and, as far as she knew, living in Garland Texas.  So I googled her, found her phone number, called and she answered the phone.  She’s 93, living in the same house she was in when I was born and one of my half-sisters lives there with her for the time being.  She said that she had had a drug problem some years ago and after she did the rehab thing she went back to school and was staying there with her while completing it. She wasn’t home at the moment.

So that’s about it.  I found my natural father, only he’s dead.  BUT, I now know where to call my grandmother and she can hook me up with my halfsisters… if that’s a good idea or not is anybody’s guess.

That Witchypoo, has got me spilling my guts in emails to her AND since she had me be an active part in her post I thought, hey, I can at least pull something together from an email I sent her.  We do a lot of chit-chatting, she and I.

I know how the following, (gulp), paragraph looks, but I really did take a breath in there somewhere.

It’s been one of those days, ya know?  Started laundry.  Folded a load of clothes from yesterday.  Kes and The Boyfriend went to get the Adirondack chairs for John for Father’s Day.  H had an early poop and was kind of freaked out about it.  Did the entire thing in her diaper before I could get her on bedpan.  It ran out the sides of diaper while I was changing her and for reasons still unknown to me, I made her bed ready last night without a chux so there was shit all over the sheet.  More laundry.  Ran out of laundry detergent.  Sat down in floor ready to put the new chairs together.  Ran out of juice in the cordless drill/screwdriver, so it’s charging. H had another U.P.  Once again, she did it all in the diaper.  That makes it harder to clean her up, but this time she didn’t have that much left.  Now she’s a bit freaked out due to two, er, make that TWO, U.P. in one day.  Convinced I gave her a laxative.  “Krissa, did you give me a laxative?”  I look pointedly confused and reply, “When would I have given you a laxative?”  “Well, did you?”  “Think about it Henrietta, when would I have given it to you?”  “Ohhhh I don’t know…”  “Well, DID I GIVE YOU ANY MEDICINE OR NOT?”  “Well…. no, just my two pills last night…”  OK, I didn’t give you a laxative!”   She is now in there repeatedly trying to pick up something off the floor with her little grabbing tool she uses and is dropping the object over and over.  I have gone over with her how to do it time and time again.  SHE. CAN. NOT. GET. IT.
Shit.  SIL just showed up and I gotta go explain what all H is talking about when she starts bitching to her.  

John picked the orange one. They are VERY comfortable.

* I dumped a bit of critter food on a paver sitting in my flowerbed to try to lure the baby squirrels into my yard.    The little shits are very cautious about anything THAT easy to get to.  However I am getting some cardinals and other vermin critters, coming up.

*The other night Craig Ferguson said something like, ” Young people  who want change try to orchestrate a well placed riot.  Old farts like me  just think, “Get that riot off my lawn!”   Heh

*Overheard at chez Lopez last night while discussing John’s midlife crisis crazies.

Kessa shot a look at The Boyfriend and said, “Honey, when you start having a midlife crisis I’m just shipping you off.

The Boyfriend, a tad bewildered, “To where?”

Kessa, “They have places for men to go to stay till they get over that stuff.  That’s where you’ll have to go!  But, don’t worry, I’ll still come and visit you once in a while.”

The Boyfriend contemplates this for a few seconds and says, “So that’s what happens to men…. what happens to women?”

Before Kessa could begin to formulate an answer, I snapped, “We start having periods once a month about the age of 12 and it lasts until who knows when!”

The Boyfriend, “Oh….yeah.”  Now he feels lucky.

* H, essentially, wet the bed last night.  Yesterday her catheter started failing and she was waking up with a leeeetle bit of pee in the bag and a lot in the diaper.  So I called the agency to come out here and change it.

They sent some new chick.  *sigh*

Now don’t get me wrong, she was nice, and doing the best she knew how. Yet, Henrietta is riddled with fistulas  to the point that it’s like Swiss cheese up in there.  At least that’s what I’m guessing since it’s such a hit or miss proposition to get the cath to work.  OK, mostly “miss”.

The nurse did her thing and left.  So cocksure of herself that she didn’t even bother to wait around and see if it “took”.

It didn’t and it was evident last night when I put H to bed.  She just had a wee bit ‘o wee in the bag.  Sometimes moving her around and, consequently moving the fistulas gets it all back lined up, so I was hopeful putting her in bed would do this.

About 8:00 this morning she was soaked in urine.  So I changed up all the fixin’s she was in, diaper, nightgown, hospital chux, etc. and she went back to sleep.

Here in a few minutes she is going to go sit on the bedpan and when she’s done, I am going to give changing the catheter a shot and I bet I can get it done.  If she’ll let me do it.

I’ll report back and don’t worry.   I promise…  no pictures.

Henrietta is MOST unhappy with the temperature in the house at night. Her room is the one that’s the warmest in the summer always, (furthest away from the unit in the attic and therefore gets the least amount of cool air coming through her air vent), and she refuses to sleep with her ceiling fan on any higher than low. I tried to get her to let me turn it on medium and she tried to die saying how sick it would make her. Fine. Then suck it up and quit complaining.
Our electric bill was $500.00 LAST month. I can see that in August, we are going to be battling to keep it under $800.00. So the thermostat has been turned up. To a sweltering…. 74. OOOOOO. Yeah, I know. Everybody else is quite comfortable and keeps the ceiling fan on in the room they are in. She was quite upset when I told her that I had turned up the thermostat and that’s why she gets hot at night. It’s the same temperature, but she’s hot since she’s in bed and she needs to let me turn her fan on higher.
Very indignant, “Krissa. WHY do you have air conditioning?”
I admit, I stared at her a moment looking puzzled. (I CAN’T HELP MYSELF!) “To cool the house?”
Well you have to USE it!  I’m elderly and I can’t tolerate the heat like that! You need to turn on the AIR Krissa!  I will help you pay the bill.  I explained for the millionth time that she already helps us pay for things and NONE OF US CAN AFFORD FOR OUR LIGHT BILLS TO BE THAT MUCH.

“Krissa, is John here?”  Heh.  She really thinks she’s “going over my head” by talking to him.

“No, he’s at work, but he will tell you the exact same thing.”

At this point I had a minor brain storm and sent The Boyfriend out to the garage to get a standing fan that’s been out there for years.  I then plopped it down in the hall several feet from her door.  She’s in the opposite corner in bed looking at it and started immediately bellyaching about how she can’t have a fan on her and OOOOOOOH NOOOOOOO! I just CAN’T, Krissa!  I turned it on pointed it toward her door walked in, leaned over her and said, “It’s not blowing on YOU!  It’s pulling the cool air into the room!

She motioned for me to wait while she determined if I was lying or not and then slowly said, “OK… I guess that’s all right…”.  I was then waved off while she finished up using the bedpan.

Tonight? I am tempted to freeze her shrivled up little ass off.  Heh.

Wow!  There are a ton of totally unrelated pictures on my camera that need to come off.

Don’t expect any of this to make sense.  (HA! Like I had to warn you about THAT!) It was just whatever moved me to take a picture of whatever at the time.

Me at chiropractor right before she stretches me ON THE RACK. John took this.

Inside of purse while bored in waiting room... somewhere...

I need a dress to attend an afternoon wedding. OUTSIDE. IN JUNE.

Top two contenders. The one on the right won.

Wedding reception we were attending.

Our tiki bar at the wedding reception of our neighbor across the street.

Ladies from the neighborhood.

The happy couple, Rich and Pat.

And that’s enough about the wedding.

Next we have Henrietta after the SIL showed up early enough to get her out of bed and dressed and hauled into the chair and into the living room and I looked at her and damned if she didn’t dress her in a pink and white striped top and bright red pants.  It’s kinda hard to tell in the picture, cause I didn’t use a flash, but her pants are RED.  When I said, “Couldn’t you have found her something that matched?”  She said, “Oh! That’s good enough for Mom!”

So sweet.

While going to Kohl's the other day. Heh!

So is it going to rain or is this the apocalypse? This is while leaving Kohl's.

Keelan's snake, making himself comfortable.

Look! He's smiling for the camera!

Our new tiki bar. Isn't it cute? OK, but it was free. That's what I thought.

…and besides that, I went outside in the heat of the day and painted it with water sealant. It’s been getting around 95 and 96 degrees here every day and the humidity is hovering around 126%.

Yes I agree.  it is absolutely beautiful.

The cicadas are out and making a horrible racket and leaving these shells around all over the place.

There.  That wasn’t too terribly painful, was it?  OK! OK!  The good news is that my camera is clean and therefore my mind is too.
Yeah!  RIGHT!!!

Remember Jay Leno’s Stupid Criminals segments?  When he would regale the audience with tales of how someone got caught breaking into a house because they made it halfway through the dogie door and got stuck there?  Or was holding up a liquor store and trying to steal liquor too and when told that they needed to be over 21 to take the liquor, they handed over their license and even forgot to get it back?

There are many more of these.

John comes home from work fairly often with some doozies.  There is no end to the funny, and sometimes a little sad, tales of stupid criminals.

Take, for instance, the other day when a young kid was spied taking a box of Extenze (male “enhancement” product), off a shelf and putting it in his pocket. This crap sells for $40.00 a box.

John was waved over and he more or less stalked the guy until he got spooked and went into the bathroom.  John followed and the kid was immediately leaving.  John stopped him and gestured to the trashcan where the empty box was.  The boy denied everything and so was asked to step into the office.  He continued to deny that he had taken the box or that he had taken the blister packs out and had them on him.  John told him to just give it up, because the cops were going to be called and they WOULD get it back.  Nothing.  Complete denial.

The cops show up and, eventually the kid strips to his skivvies.  John said the cop told him, “Don’t take off the underwear!”  Anyway, they were tightie-whities, so it was evident it wasn’t in there.

Then they pulled out the big guns.  They called The Mama.  Tears were shed upon hearing this.  Mom showed up and he finally admitted taking the box and that when he got it into the bathroom, he discovered that someone had already stolen the contents.

This boy is 17 years old, just graduated from high school, 6′5″, has basketball scholarships to colleges, and stole a box of Extenze.

That was empty.

And he was a black kid, too!  Doing absolutely nothing to uphold the stereotype.

*sigh*

It was a misdemeanor, so I don’t think it’s going to hurt his ability to use the scholarships, at least I hope not.  I told John it just makes me want to shake him really hard and scream at him about how stupid that was.  He assured me that The Mama was most definitely going to be doing that.

In our next installment of Stupid Criminals, we will explore the question of, “Why are we consistantly turning up $100.00 short on one till or another when different people are running them… even department heads?” And no, it’s not organized crime.

I had a perfectly wonderful good decent acceptable post pulled together that was going to go up today, only all this other stuff happened that was MUCH better to talk about!

First of all I have been honored with a distinction of unequalled measure.  Witchypoo from over at Psychicgeek, has bestowed the coveted, (I’m guessing, cause gee, it’s really neato), Charming Award on me.  Yup.  It’s right here on me… trust me.  No, not really, you should probably never do that… at least with anything important.

Aaaaanywho, there are directions with it to confuse my mushy little brain astound and amaze us all.  Prepare to applaud, whilst I exersize my copying and pasting skills.

Charming Award!

Charming Award!

This award is given to the writers of blogs that “are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.”

Now, I am going to name my eight peeps and you really should stand and applaud.  Go ahead, nobody’s looking!  NO!  A golf clap will NOT do.  These kind souls deserve better than that!  I want to be able to hear it in south Texas.

That’s better.  (Cause I know you’re doing it, right?)

Ahem,

Angie of Big Hair Envy fame

Janet From The Planet of Janet

Tink at Pickled Beef

Kori at See Kori Rant

Predo at Spartacus Wore A Skirt

Karen at The Rocking Pony

Jean at Working Momma 247

Marylin at A Little Space For Me

THEN, as if this humongous privilege wasn’t enough, good ol’ Angie of Big Hair Envy tells me that she has drawn my name as one of the two winners of her “Pay it Forward” contest.

I am delighted about this and it’s going to be so much fun!

Here’s the exact, (cut and paste), wording of the famous Angie, herself, explaining the details of Pay It Forward.  It’s really quite easy.

I’m going to Pay It Forward to two commenter who leave me a message saying they would like to participate. I will randomly select the winners, and each will receive a gift from me! YAY! The only catch is that YOU must Pay It Forward on YOUR blog. Easy. Peasy.

Stay tuned for an episode of “Stupid Criminals” next time!

Oh man… where were we?  Oh yeah!  The second child was about to graduate high school!

Done.

Moving right along…

NO!  I am much too much of a proud mom to let it go like that.  No, I want you all to experience ALL the glee and joy I did as my darling daughter told us that there was a chance she may not get to graduate due to too many absences.

I stared at her with a thousand questions going through my head. “How many do you have?  How many are OK?  Did you play hooky?  How many times did you play hooky?  How did you make good grades while missing all this school?  Where did you go while playing hooky? WHO WERE YOU WITH, PLAYING HOOKY?  DID YOU COMMIT ANY CRIMES WHILE PLAYING HOOKY?  ARE THE COPS OUTSIDE RIGHT NOW?  YOU’RE EIGHTEEN NOW, SO THAT MEANS YOU GO TO JAIL…. NOT ME, RIGHT?  heh.  Not really.

But I can kinda understand other parents thinking that.  We really were blessed with very good kids and very well behaved ones as well.  They’re a tad lazy and self-centered, (teenagers), but they ARE good. (Thank you, God.)

There she is! On the right side of the stage snatching the sheepskin with one hand and shaking hands with the other.

Oh dear God, please let us see it through and grow them completely up to be “real” adults, where they can take care of themselves and be contributing citizens of Texas, and the United States.

OK, just this household?

Amen

Anyway, OVER.  The whole entire high school thing is done with.  It’s really weird to think, but you know what’s weirder?  I’ll tell you.

You knew I would.

I always swore I would NEVER, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, have a snake in my house.  Voluntarily.  The girl child named Keelan decided she would graduate and spend a bit of her money on a “ball python“.  And, *sigh*,  this was OKed by her father and I.

I must admit that I do indeed like her new reptile and she is a “nice snake”.  She’s fun to hold and young and curious.  And, come to find out, not the least bit creepy feeling.  Very soft.  She has teeny, tiny scales and this is why she is soft, Keelan says.

She fell asleep like this with her head on my boob.

Yes, that is me with her crawling in and out of my shirt.  Like I said, curious.  She eventually went to sleep, I guess, (They, apparently, don’t close their eyes, and yes, that’s a bit creepy.), Anyway she got very still and balled up against my skin, (Where it was warm?), and… slept.

Here's Keelan and Mither, aka Nana.

Kessa and Pop. She grabbed his hat and put it on... it was backwards, but I don't think she cared.

Kessa and The Boyfriend. Hat still backwards.

The Proud Graduate! And she's sure of the way she's rocking those sunglasses!

As anyone would guess the proud grandparents have come down for the graduation and the discussion of snakes ensued.  Mither brought to mind a snake story from years ago.

The girls and I had been visiting with Mither and Pop for a few days when they lived in Trinity, Texas and we had gone to a plant nursery.  Mither and I had purchased some bedding plants and while we were there, we planted the ones we had gotten for her.

Then we were packing up her car to go back to my house.  Mither picked up a tray of the bedding plants I had bought and plopped it down in the back of her car.  A startled snake slithered out and went in between the seats.

Crap.

Now what?  Well, a neighbor came over to do some damsels-in-distress work only he couldn’t figure out how to get the seats out and neither could we.  Mither called Pop, who wasn’t home and asked him how to do it and he told her.  Thank you, God. Amen.

The neighbor took out the seats and we had already carefully removed all the luggage and whatnot.  Somehow, he got the snake out.  I don’t remember how, I don’t remember what kind it was, I don’t remember how long it took, I don’t remember if it came willingly or not.  A traumatic experience, my brain won’t let me recollect?  Probably.