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John came in from work the other day in, quite possibly the worst mood I have ever had the misfortune of being subjected to.  We’re talking Lewis Black on a bad day.  Just cranky as all get-out.  I went ahead and did the requisite wasting of my time by asking him what was the matter and was careful to have the look of concern placed squarely on my face.  I looked attentive and mildly distressed as he gave me the requisite answer of “Nothing is wrong”.

Right.

Moving right along then.

And this is what gets me.  I can’t understand getting that response from him to a question that is reasonable to ask any person who has announced his homecoming by slamming the car door hard enough to register on the Richter scale, literally throwing the loaf of bread he brought home across the entire kitchen to land only partially intact on the counter, (part in the sink), and tossing me a glare when I said, “Oh!, but…but, the bread….  Even the dogs, (whom I tell you can sense evil), were scarce and they always go into their frantic jubilant dance when Daddy comes home.  Not this time, baby.

So, let me get this straight.  “Nothing is wrong?”

“No. Nothing is wrong.”

And this is how it works sometimes at this house.  I learned a long time ago that if I keep on asking and asking eventually he will tell me and he just gets all worked up about it again.  I mean I know it’s not something that’s my fault cause, for heaven’s sake he’s been at work all day.  So I ignore him and after a couple of hours or so he’s fine.  Eventually I’ll ask him what was wrong and he’ll tell me and it will all be OK and he will be over it.  But every once in a while, when I suspect there must be some sort of planet misalignment or full moon or someone at work bitchslapping him, I get this kind of attitude when he gets here and I NEVER SEE IT COMING.  I’d like to say at this time that I always handle it beautifully, but it really happens so seldom that I have to stop and take stock and think about the propper response.  And anytime there is a SWAT truck parked outside my house, I have neglected to do that.

OK, I know I spent a good deal of my time going on and on about not having anything to post about in the last one…And yet. Now I have a good reason to say something.

Ree, over at Hotfessional is helping promote a very worthy cause. How would you like to help War Child, the child protection agency for children in war-afflicted countries?

Definitely worthy. The revenue raising is being done with the sale of a book that promises to be a very good read. I am ordering one ASAP. Click here to read about it and buy 5 or 6 or 10 today. It really does sound like they would make great gifts.

I gots nuttin ta say, people. Well, Ok, how ’bout this:

I called the Provider Care place and told the supervisor person there that Crystal wasn’t working out and why. She was very understanding and nice and said, she’d get someone else out here. Woo-hoo!

H is in her room doing a Stations of the Cross thing, (it’s a catholic ritual and I really, no REALLY, don’t know anything about it), and she will emerge as soon as she is done with that.

You’d think living in Louisiana for all the time I did and going to mass with all my friends for all that time and then marrying a card carrying catholic and living with a practicing one for the last 3 1/2 years, I’d know more about it. No. All a mystery to me. From an outsiders perspective looking in it seems to be an extremely ritualistic religion. Lots of symbolism. Very beautiful, though. Still, some of the basic parts of it still amaze me and I just can’t get my head around it. I guess that’s all I better say about it. I don’t want to offend anyone.

Is this how far I’ve sunk? I’ve run out of things to say and now you are faced with a few short paragraphs about religion that I’m afraid to even take a side about? I would say something pithy like, “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.”, but really…”Mighty”? I think not.

My two daughters are going to be leaving to go to visit my mom and dad for the 4th of July weekend and so the house will be empty except for H. I know John would be so happy if we could find some place to stash her and we could run around the house naked all weekend. I remember doing that with him sooooo many years ago. Doing housework naked, watching tv naked, cooking naked, eating naked. And yes, even bathing naked. We were so free and laid back. Aaaaah, those were the days.

I am convinced that if I don’t stop now, I could conceivably hurt myself. Anytime I end up talking about naked housework I should have already ended the post…

Well, Crystal, the caregiver provider person, called this morning at 11:00 and talked to John. He made arrangements for her to come over at noon. So at12:45 when she hadn’t arrived yet, he called her and she told him that she was in her car and was “trying” to get there from another street and she was having a hard time. Well, she knows how to get here as she has already been here and the street that the subdivision is off of is a dead end. It is a very small, private subdivision and there are only two ways in and out. That dead end street is approximately a half mile long and comes straight off the freeway’s service road. He said that he heard the sound of a baby in the background and that she insisted she was in the car “looking for the house”. He explained where we were and she said she would be here in a minute. When she got here I chatted with her for a minute and found out that she lives here in Dickinson and isn’t that far away and she has a toddler. Well, I guess it’s easy to deduce that she was at home until he called her at 12:45 and asked where she was. I wish he wasn’t such a wuss. OK, I wish I wasn’t, too.

Conversation between John and me at the Mrs. Baird’s Thrift Store this afternoon about a 75 year old looking guy standing in the corner GLARING AT EVERYBODY:

Halfass: “Who is that really old guy standing over there just watching everyone? He’s never been here before.”

John: “He’s the new bouncer.”

H.A.: “I’m not sure you should call him “new” on any counts, and bouncer? In a Mrs. Baird’s Thrift Store?”

John: “Keep an eye on him… he’s watching everyone’s every move.”

And just then some kids came in and spread out and the guy practically lost it trying to frantically keep up with it all. I mean you could almost hear him thinking, NO! DON’T TOUCH THAT! It was kinda funny how weirded out he got cause the kids were just trying to see how far they could push the envelope and what they could get away with. I don’t think anyone stole anything and they left as soon as his eyes started to bulge, but when I turned to look him fully in the face he was sputtering and totally red. I am thinking he needs this job as much as my “provider care aide” needs hers….

People, I am telling you… this is exactly the kind of thing I would be taking pictures of if I would just go ahead and get the new camera already!

Witchy-Poo, over at Psychicgeek has linked me up and given me a mention for comments. I really appreciate it and can only say that she can always open my can of funny. She and AssBurgerBoy have got it going on.

The stupid “caregiver provider” never showed up today. She made it out here last Friday and did the requisite 3 hour stay, only I was here for most of it. She also gave H her bed-bath and dressed her and pottied her and whatnot. It was very nice. However she is supposed to be here every Tuesday and Friday at 1:00. I called the office at about 2:00 and they called her cell phone and left a voice mail message. About 3:00 she called me and said she had been at the emergency room. She said she is pregnant and had started bleeding. Then she said she is OK they gave her some medicine. She wants to come tomorrow morning and do the whole thing then. How should I feel about someone who supposed to be preggers and having bleeding problems showing up and horsing H around and picking her up and all the job entails? I am betting her employer doesn’t know she’s pregnant. If she really is.

I was looking at Twitter and noticed that Holly over at Anglophile Football Fanatic, commented that the UPS man rang the doorbell and she went into a meltdown of sorts trying to make sure “the boy” didn’t wake up. This got me to thinking about how determined I was that my kids could sleep through anything. I thought I had the perfect plan. I wanted them to be able to sleep through any kind of noise or silence, so, every other night, for a very long time, from day one at home I left the radio on or the tv or something noise making. Not very loud, but loud enough to be heard. And every other night it was off and there was silence. Wanna know how they turned out? Well, I have to say that when they were little it did work. Noise never bothered them, but, they didn’t have to have it to sleep, either. However, now? The older one needs quiet and the younger one, noise. I AM TELLING YOU I DON’T THINK THEY’RE MINE.

Poor older daughter has now contracted the evil virus that has marauded through this family. The elderly, delicate immune system of H didn’t contract this plague. Kes did. Go figure. After John and I did. I have to take the credit here for starting the entire epidemic.

The poor child is very susceptible to sinus infections and is trying hard to hold one off. I like to think she inherited only good things from me. I lie to myself about this a lot.

Yesterday when I went with her to Walmart, I picked up a thing I’d been toying with trying for a while. It’s called a neti pot. I had seen Dr. Oz do a demonstration with an unsuspecting audience member on Oprah. It looked very easy and he said it’s been around for hundreds of years. Also, the lady that tried it suffered with sinusitis and she really liked it. So I mixed it up and walked slowly cause I am so freakin old ran upstairs to try it out for the first time to show Kes how to do it and have her try it. It worked just like it was supposed to and so she did it and finally got some flow going through. A LOT of impacted snot came out and she felt much better. She could even breathe through her nose. Click on the link and watch the video and you will see why I went up there knowing I would need to demonstrate it’s use before I would ever be able to convince her to try to use it. It seems like it would hurt immensely to me, just because it hurts so much when you get water up your nose. But, it really doesn’t and it feels sooooo much better when you are congested. Or have allergies!

I am convinced all of you people on the intertubes should get one and use it the next time you feel snotty. Snotty, not snobby. Well, I guess you could use it if you feel snobby…but why?

John called from work and said the dickhead in charge there wants a current copy of his resume, could I please email it on over. Uhh, YES. Am I wrong or is it only a good thing if he wants to see this?

WordPress doesn’t acknowledge the word “dickhead”. Or there is another spelling I am unaware of. Apparently WP has never met this guy.

Mo’ later.

Well, I got up this morning and left with elder daughter to go to Walmart to get her a new battery. She wanted me to go with her as she is a pansy and scared to do anything like that by herself. I think she will be able to handle it now. TWO HOURS later they are finished putting it in. I mean “installation” is free, but, my gawd, she could have done it a fraction of the time, I know I could have.

Anyway we came home and I fed H and younger daughter left for work. I knew my SIL was coming today but she told me she had no idea what time when I talked to her on Friday. She usually only comes to visit her mom, once a week for a couple of hours and she only lives about 35 minutes away. So when H rang to get on the pot I put her there and was delighted when SIL showed up with her “significant other”. So it is written that she has to get her off the pot, clean her up, (that’s putting it delicately), dress her, put her in the wheelchair and roll her in. Actually it is not written but that is, by gawd, the understanding. And it’s one that I like. She does this on an average of once every 4 or 5 months because she manages to get here late enough in the day to miss out on all of this kind of activity. And this irks me no end. She is not good with money at all and used to ask for gas money when she was about to leave to go home because she didn’t “have enough to get home”. However when H first moved in with us she would come to see her at least 3 times a week and actually spend time with her. Now? She shows up last thing usually on Sunday night and stays about 2 hours, sometimes 3 and is on the computer almost the whole time.

Today she got here at 2:00, which is good for her, and stayed until 4:50 which is very unusual, but it’s because I put in a movie that I knew she would stay and watch until the end. I told her the computer was “down”. I swear I don’t mind her using it, but she will stay in there on it and not visit with her mom at all if she can. She hasn’t asked us for $ in a long time and she better not, either. She let it slip that she and her “boyfriend” were in Galveston this morning and none of the gift shops were open. (Well, I guess so. It’s SUNDAY!) I said, “Galveston? What did you have to do in Galveston?” She said that they just “…drove all over and then went aaaaaall the way up on the northeast side of Houston and circled around,” (wide arm gestures), “and then came over here.” She spent all day riding around in a car when she could have been here visiting her mom and relieving me from…”care duty”. It wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t know she is going to ask us for gas money sometime in the near future.

When H first started staying with us she would just show up unannounced and walk in like she owned the place and I remember one time she surprised me and I said “Oh, (SIL), I didn’t know you were coming today.” and she said, (I swear this is true), “That’s the whole idea.” She stuck her nose into every little aspect of her mom’s care and talked to her in Spanish right in front of me about what I was doing and if she was getting good care and what not. I could tell enough about what she was saying to know that. Well, as soon as she decided everything was going well and I knew what I was doing, she dropped us like a hot potato.

Well, I have gone on and on about it and it is not a Father’s Day subject at all. BUT IT JUST CHAPS ME ARSE!

I finally put up the new tie rack that my pop made and Mither and Auntie-Poo brought with them when they came to visit last week. No more ties on the floor! I can’t wait until John gets home and sees! Now he owes me-big time!

Behold! The Wall O’ Ties.

I am sorry there was no post for “Fecal Friday”. I was not here and, truth be told, I dealt with no poo yesterday. How did I escape the poo? I will tell you.

I left with my daughter about 6:00AM to drive to downtown Houston for the second day of Orientation. AND I am happy to report that I didn’t get separated from the herd. However things didn’t go smoothly to start off. We were running on schedule and Kes went out to start the car while I collected my purse or put on earrings or some such thing. She came back in looking stricken and said, “My car won’t start. MOM, MY CAR WON’T START!” At this point John, (who was sleeping in and trying hard to get over the virus I gave him), woke up and came outside. “Kes, are you sure it’s in park?” Check. She tried to start it and it was evident it was either the battery, the starter or alternator. You know that noise…errrrrerrrrerrrrrerrrrr, nothing. So we looked under the hood and saw that one post on her battery was completely covered with corrosion. I ran in the garage and got a wire brush and came out and attacked it. With the first stroke of the brush a tiny, evil particle of…corrosion? battery acid? whatever, flicked straight into my right eye. OH MY GAWD! I have never felt anything burn that bad in my life. Not in my eye. Anyway, while I am in the house rinsing my eye out, Kes and John come to the conclusion that Kes will drive us there in John’s car and he will take our pickup to work. We were running a tad behind at this point and Kes was having an apoplectic fit to leave. (Have I ever mentioned that she is a bit… high strung? Tightly wound? Oh hell, she’s a stereotypical, type A personality. Not a lot of fun to live with sometimes.) So I run out and climb in the car with ALL the eye makeup missing from my right eye. I swear, she glanced at me, started to comment, made this microscopic head shake and started the car and backed out almost all in one move. I waited until we were almost there and the burning had subsided somewhat, to reapply some mascara. The red, swollen eye combined with my chapped red nose from the SINUS INFECTION FROM HELL, had me looking particularly…what…hungover? disgusting? I am not sure, but it was bad.

I should have taken a box of Puffs Plus with me because I sat through hours of one professor after another stress THE EXACT SAME THINGS, OVER AND OVER, while I repeatedly blew my nose into a red paper cocktail napkin. (UH Cougars, colors-red and white.) By the end of the day there was no way to tell if my nose was red from constantly blowing it into sandpaper a paper napkin, or if the color on said napkin ran and stained my nose. I lived though. Maybe because I knew that by the time I got home John would be at work as would younger child and H would have already been pooped and diapered, washed and dressed, drug into wheelchair and rolled into living room. OH! And fed!

That’s right, people. Behold. The power of the federal government, finally put to use for good and not evil. It is paying for a company named Home Health Providers, or HHP, to send a “Caregiver Provider” to our house TWO, (2) times a week! Note the title says “caregiver provider” as in providing ME, the caregiver with help. LOVE the concept. This lady does the same thing the aide for Home Health Care did as far as the bath and dressing, twice a week, BUT! WILL STAY FOR THREE, (3!) HOURS WHILE I LEAVE AND GO WHERE EVER THE HELL I WANT. WOO-HOOOOOO. So don’t call me on Tuesdays or Fridays between the hours of 1:00PM and 4:00PM. I WILL BE GONE. Probably. At the very least I will be in the bathtub. FOR 3 HOURS!

First, (and most importantly), Cecilia seems to have…recuperated. Apparently she reads my blog and while she obviously doesn’t have very good taste in literature, she makes up for it in coffee brewing skills. It must have scared her to see how unhappy I was with her performance of late and that I was considering tossing her and getting a new one to be named Roberta. She did not stop immediately after I posted that one about her, yet she immediately began to behave better. I am happy to say she has not had to be restarted in a few days now. I realize that by posting this I have not only tempted fate, I have, I am sure, challenged Cecilia and she will feel compelled to misbehave again. But it won’t last. Not when there is Roberta standing in the wings just waiting to step in…

Secondly. (Oh! Let me warn you, I have been reduced to discussing the weather here.) It finally rained and we might get some more this weekend. WOOHOO!

Thirdly, I have been taking antibiotics since Sunday. Is it a bad sign that my snot is still yellow? I don’t think it should be. I am feeling much better, but I get the feeling that when I finish this amoxicilian (sp?) it will all come right back. I am taking it religiously and correctly, too. JUST TELL ME NOW…AM I GONNA DIE WITH THE SNOT NOSE!?

Fourthly, my older daughter, Kes is at her college orientation this morning with John. (John now has the virus I had that gave me this wonderful sinus infection.) I wanted to go, too, but alas, no one to stay with H. It continues tomorrow and I will get my turn then. I have heard from John a few times since they got there and Kes once. John updated me on what they were telling the parents about the importance of the kids networking and asking questions and joining clubs, etc. In other words, Make the most out of the college experience. They stressed that a 4.0 GPA won’t be worth much if that is all they can say about their college work. Building a resume starts on day one of school. Yadda, yadda, yadda. OK. Point well taken. Now how do we beat this into her little head without causing severe visible bruising? She is pathologically shy. Stating that pains me no small amount as this surely means that I brought someone else’s baby home from the hospital. No. She is not her father’s either. And Jeez, she looks just like us. What are the odds….

John told me they parted the herd of parents and students pretty much right off with the parents going one way and students another. They had crossed paths a few times and waved or sat together. I hung up with him and in about 3 or 4 minutes Kes called and I told her I had talked to her father and she started asking where he was. As if I should know. She then went to the other line and talked to John and came back and told me he was lost because he strayed from the parent herd “so he could talk to you”. Gawd! I’m not even there and everything is my fault! So this means that the whole going to college thing does NOT guarantee she is grown out of that phase. I am beginning to think the gazillions of dollars this whole college thing is going to cost MAY not be worth it if I can’t be guaranteed I won’t be the designated bad-guy for EVERY SINGLE CATASTROPHE. MAJOR OR MINOR.

Hopefully, by now a parent wrangler has found him and roped him back in. My fondest hope at this point is that there is a P.A. system and they will say something like…”ATTENTION: COULD KESSA (insert last name here), PLEASE RAISE YOUR HAND, WE FOUND YOUR FATHER AND HAVE BROUGHT HIM BACK TO THE HERD.

My fault, indeed.

Stay tuned! Tomorrow is “FECAL FRIDAY!”, where there will be lots of fun and prizes! oh joy.