HalfAsstic.com

Hey everybody!  I just wanted to wish everyone a happy new year and say… It can’t get any worse?  (frantically knocking on wood…)

I think this sums things up pretty well…

My List to get rich quick. My attempt to make a stab at my own little version of the gross national debt.  And I DO mean gross.

• put the horse trough on Craig’s List for $50.00.  Check- (SOLD)

• put the saddle on Craig’s List for, ummm, $200.00?…. $300.00? (Will do as soon as Keelan gets home and cleans it up. *note to self, tell John to bring home saddle soap*

• investigate the cost of saddles.

• put Kes’s text books and a few others on Amazon to sell.  7 of them.  Check- (SOLD…some of them)

• put a bunch of my McCoy pottery pieces on Ebay.  Check- (bidding ends late tomorrow, prepare to be rich, less poor.

I cannot freaking believe that Kes just came in and told me that she was looking at her courses on line and she has a biology 2 class, (or some such shit) that is requiring the exact same book that we just sold for $80.00.

AAAARRRG!  WHY, OH WHY IS MY GET RICH (quick, deadly slow, whatever), SCHEME BACKFIRING?

On the bright side, I have scarred Keelan for life… mentally, that is.  During the Christmas meal preparation, she wandered into the kitchen and gazed longingly at the turkey that I had recently pulled out of the oven.  I thought I’d mess with her a little bit and I gestured to the perfectly round, neat little 22 caliber sized hole in the breast of the bird where I had recently pulled out the pop up button thing that tells you when it is sufficiently done on the inside.

I said, “Oh, look… that’s where they shot it.”

Her eye’s got huge and I swear her face turned white as she stared at that turkey that she must have been sure had died a natural death of “want-to-contribute-to-our-holiday-meal”.   Everyone started laughing and she blushed.  Sometimes she is sooooo sweet.

And then there are the other times…

Well, it’s all over and I am glad that life is going back to semi-normal.  John is back at work and that store is TORE UP.  At least it was when we had to go up there twice yesterday to check on it.

That’s how weird his employer’s are.  This is a huge national chain that, for the most part has all their stores staying open 24/7.  They close at 4:00pm on Thanksgiving day and are closed on Christmas day.

And that’s it.

They apparently don’t remember what it’s like to just close every night like regular folk do and are completely freaked out paranoid at the thought of any of their stores being left uninhabited for an entire day and night.  So all the stores have to have a manager go up there twice during the day of Christmas and walk through the entire thing, checking all the coolers to see if for some bizarre reason they have stopped working and go through all the bathrooms and backrooms and storage closets and walk-in freezers and coolers and behind all the counters of this 88,000 sq. ft. store looking for… I don’t know what.  It’s ridiculous.

Did I mention they’re paranoid?

He’s gotten it all back in shape by now and he’s off tomorrow, so… YEAAA!

Yesterday was a success.  I decided that I was scaling back a lot and not breaking out every single specialty  Kes and I could whip out.  Turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, rolls, pumpkin pie (1), dressing, gravy, and I think that’s it. It was bare minimum.

On Christmas Eve I finally heard from SIL late in the day and I asked her to bring the green vegetables.  She told me that H had asked her to make a roast the day before and she was going to bring that, too.

OK, fine.

She showed up and had a piece of meat that she later admitted having got at some Mexican meat market and she had no idea what cut it was, but it was NOT a roast.  Tough. As. Shoe. Leather.

She also just said, “I didn’t bring the vegetables.”

That was the only thing I asked her for.

We had her, and her “friend” that she didn’t tell me was coming, her 4 grown kids, along with one of the kids boyfriend, (also didn’t know was coming), and her two grandkids.   So an extra 11 people for supper.

It was interesting.

Anyway, things went along fairly well and it was all over almost as soon as it had begun.  The two nieces of John’s that have 5 and 6 kids a piece didn’t call or show, (thank you God), so it could have been much worse and much more crowded.

Last night we were taking bets on how the “roast” was going to affect H’s “delicate digestive system”.  She went with indigestion and saying that “…it was that roast…it was greasy… she should have boiled it longer.”  There was nothing greasy about that dried up hunk of ass meat.  But I won’t be telling Henrietta that.   Some nasty stuff, that.

A few days ago when the caregiver provider person was here with Henrietta and John was off work for the day we got all crazy with freedom and decided to hit Starbucks in the Barnes and Nobel bookstore.  Just us.  No errands, no kids, no promises to do anything for anyone else.  It was totally relaxing and we had such a good time.  John has been working so hard and putting in so many hours.  I, literally, just sat across the table and watched the stress melt off of him.

After we browsed around looking at books and I bought a new one, we drank our coffee and headed out to La Madeline’s to have lunch.  We’d never been there before and it was excellent.

It probably seems a little bit ridiculous, but I’d like to have just one day a month when we can go out and do just what we want, together and not feel like we have to hurry and run two dozen errands in the meantime. A “date” day, if you will.

That’s not too much to ask, is it?

Settling in at Starbucks…

NOW we’re ready to go eat.

I guess the saddest part of this story is how badly abused John is when he’s at home and it’s late at night and he’s so tired he can’t stay awake and I have run out of reading material, there’s no good guests on Leno, Letterman or Furgeson…  Well, it gets a little dicey.

I had a sheet of sticky felt dots I had picked up at the hardware store to attach on the bottom of a part of H’s wheelchair that was making black marks on the floor in her room when I took the pedals off at night to haul her out of the chair.  (I think that may be the longest sentence ever… yet, I don’t care enough to go back and fix it…humph.)

Anyway, I started out just wondering if he’d wake up if I stuck one on him.  This, of course, led to more of them and I have to say…

I felt no shame.

Looks like he has a case of the dreaded green felt dot leprosy.   Yes, I thought it was a little funny.

Did I mention I was bored?

Anyway, he got up to pee later that night and came back to bed and I started giggling and he wanted to know what was so funny.  I ended up telling him about the dots and he started feeling around on his back and I had to tell him, “No… the other shoulder.”  I couldn’t stop laughing.  He did too and now every night when we go to bed he says something like “Don’t dot me!  AND NO PICTURES!”

(Started last Tuesday…)

Hello there.  I am just sitting here waiting for the caregiver provider to get here at 11:00 to stay with H for the next three hours and I am OFF!  Lisa and her Mimi are picking me up and we are running the roads.

Let that be my own personal warning to anyone in the area who might be out and about at the same time we are.

There will be Christmas shopping and lunch eating, laughing and cussing, squealing and hair pulling.  Well, OK, maybe not hair pulling, but ya never know with Lisa and me.

I will give full disclosure when I get back.

It is Thursday now and no, it didn’t take this long for me to recuperate from the wild partying shopping spree we were to go on.  The original one on Tuesday didn’t even really happen.  Lisa’s grandson, a three year old, got kind of dumped on her at the last minute, when his mother, never showed up to pick him up from the father’s house and the father and his girlfriend had to go to work.

So we were attempting to shop with a three year old.  We, basically, didn’t.  The whole day was shot.  There was no stroller and it was a constant effort to keep up with where he was.

So yesterday, Wednesday, we struck out again and accomplished a bit more.  I bought two nightgowns for the girls for Christmas and then took them back.  I did keep the house shoes I got them, though.

I bought two pairs of sleep pants and two tee shirts to go with them for The Boyfriend, and they are going back today.  The pants, not the tee shirts.  Kes says the pants are way too small.  They are X-large and I know how big his waist is cause he’s worn some of John’s old belts before.  She says that I keep forgetting how big his thighs are.

Oh.

He is very large and muscular. and has gigantic muscles thighs.  So his pants have to be bought huge in order for his legs to fit into them.

Maybe he needs to sleep in shorts.  It’s not that cold.  I mean really.  We’ve been sleeping with the air conditioner on for the past two nights.

OK, now it’s Saturday and John and I spent all day yesterday and the day before frantically running around doing Christmas stuff.  And by “stuff” I mean shopping.  You know… buying shit you can’t afford for people you “have to” give to because they always give you something, whether or not either one of you can afford to do it.  And I mean people you don’t even necessarily like, but you are obligated to share Christmas with and give crap to JUST BECAUSE THEY ARE PART OF YOUR HUSBAND’S FAMILY.  AND DID I MENTION THEY REPRODUCE LIKE RABBITS AND THERE ARE A MILLION OF THEM?

(Stepping down from rickety platform I hastily erected for myself.)

Anyway, we were driving in unbearable traffic and trying to make it all the way to a certain store and John popped in a CD since nothing was really good on the radio at present.

All the sudden I am listening to Willie Nelson and Waylon Jennings.

I know.  John is a strange one and his musical taste is… diverse.  You never know which way he’s gonna go.

So we’re sitting there and Willie and Waylon are belting out “Good Hearted Woman” and it comes to a spot in the song where Willie Nelson is singing close to the end and he’s going on about how she loves him in spite of his *something* ways she don’t understand…

John was singing along with him kind of low and I turned and looked at him and said, “What did you say?”

He repeated himself and said, quite clearly, “She loves him in spite of his Micky Mouse ways, she don’t understand?”

I could not speak I was laughing so hard.  So there was much backing up of the CD and replaying that particular part, and this version really did sound weird.  I couldn’t understand what Willie was saying right in that particular part, but, I assured him that he absolutely WAS NOT saying anything about Mickey Mouse.   He might have been taking a drag off of one of his herbal cigarettes, but he was not speaking of the mouse.

This is not the same version that John had burned for the CD, however it IS Willie and Waylon and a good listen if you like this kind of music.  I guess I like it well enough, just not my usual cup of tea…

Oh, note the lack of mention of Mickey Mouse…  He says, quite clearly, “…his ways, she don’t understand…”

I see these fairly often on other people’s sites and they are always much fun to do so I thought I’d try one, but I’m making up my own words.  Well, OK, not making up words, you know, but doing my own list of new words.  Well, OK, not new words, but a new list…

Oh for Pete’s sake, just give it a try.

Copy and paste the following words into the comment box and put your answer next to the given word.  You’ll find my answers below the list.  But, if you’re like me you won’t want to read anybody else’s answers until you put down your own because it makes me you focus on their answer and not as able to think freely of my your own.

Whatev.

1. Book:

2. angst:

3. drama:

4. paper plates:

5. toothpick:

6. leaves:

7. self-portrait:

8. sister:

9. light:

10. carpet:

OK, here are my answers results:

1. Book: Long hot bath with John Grisham… er, you KNOW what I mean.

2. angst: teenager

3. drama: teenage girl

4. paper plates: put dishwasher soap on the grocery list

5. toothpick: skinny

6. leaves: Rake!  Front yard looks like a bunch of Mexicans live here.  (Oops… I forgot.)

7. self-portrait: VanGogh

8. sister: argue

9. light: lamp

10. carpet: Flor catalog

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And if all this fun and frivolity wasn’t enough, get this.

I was reading Ree’s blog, Hotfessional yesterday and came across this worthy information:

Along with a good sized list of giving people who are making valuable contributions out there, Robeez is making donations for every eCard that is sent.  So for heaven’s sake send an ecard, heck, send a lot of them!  The money goes to K.I.D.S, (Kids In Distressed Situations).  It’s free to send them and they’re really cute.

And then!

My dear friend, SSG over at Confessions of a (Sometimes) Serendipitous Girl, has awarded me with a shiny new award!  Good old brother, Cam has already got it all squared away in my sidebar.  Love the love!  It says I’m a “Superior Scribbler”…What I think she meant was “Demented”, but, I’m not gonna split hairs.  It was very sweet and I loves her for it!

Thanks SSG!

That’s it for me.  I gotta go wipe H’s butt.

Oh.  You think I’m kidding?

I’m not. 

Well, here it is.  Sunday.  About twice a month my SIL sees fit to come and visit her mother for an average of about an hour and a half.  NORMALLY she shows up long after the “poop-time-frame”.  Today, however, she miscalculated and appeared before H was off the bedpan.  So, by default, (and CAUSE I SAY SO), the bedpan duty and diapering and dressing of H falls to her.

I was sitting in here doing bloggy stuff and I realized that she was running the water in the tub in the guest bath.

Well, this is odd.

Normally, you just go in and dump the, ahem, contents of the bedpan into the potty and run water in it from the sink and dump again and wipe out whatever… stuck, with a bit of toilet paper.  You also dump the plastic, Folger’s coffee can full of urine from the catheter bag into the potty, fill with water and repeat.  All of this while wearing latex gloves and then following up behind yourself spraying the facet handles and bedpan handles and coffee can handles with spray bleach.  Not to mention the interior of the receptacles.

Well, cuorisity got the better of me when I heard her spraying something over and over and the bathtub running.

Crap, the only thing in there that sprays right now is the spray bleach and last time she used it she ruined the bathmats… somehow, both of them.

So I go in there and she has the toilet brush in one hand and the urine bucket in the other and she is “cleaning” the thing out and dumping the contents into the bathtub.

“Millie!  You don’t do that in the bathtub!”

“Oh, I didn’t dump the pee in there!”  As she sticks the toilet brush under the tap.

I just left.  It really doesn’t matter at this point what I say, cause it all has to be cleaned anyway.  People really do bathe in that tub.

Does anyone want to come and visit me?

I don’t know what to do next.  Holiday decorating is going… well, slowly.  *sigh*  Just can’t seem to get in the spirit of things…  My whole house seems to smell of poop and sadness.    Well, maybe that’s just my take on things, cause nobody else has mentioned it.  No.  Do NOT call the health department.  Really.  STEP AWAY FROM THE PHONE.

The tree is up and it’s one of those pre-lit ones that looks wonderful when the lights actually WORK on it.  Last year, (only the third year we had it), the entire middle section didn’t light up.  So I just piled on more lights and it looked OK.  For some reason I was expecting it to work this year when I plugged it in.  No.  It hates me.  It’s been talking to those elitist live bushes in the front yard that are (still) pissed off about the snow.

I DID, however, come across this most excellent recipe for a holiday… favorite(?) that I am willing to share with you all.  You may have seen it before… but it’s worth a re-read.

World’s Greatest Fruitcake

1c water

1c sugar

4 large eggs

2 c dried fruit

1 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. salt

1c brown sugar

Lemon juice

nuts

1 bottle of whiskey

This is very easy to make and awesomely delicious, especially for the tiny amount of trouble.  Assemble all ingredients and be sure you have enough counter space.

Sample the whiskey to check for quality.  Grab a large bowl.  To be sure the whiskey is of highest quality, pour one cup and drink.

Repeat process.

Turn on electric mixer, beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.  Add one tsp. sugar and 1 cup baking soda and give it a beating.  Check the whiskey and turn off the mix machine thingy.  Add two whole eggs to the bowl and chuck in the dried fruit.  Mix on the turner.  When the fruit gets stuck in the beaters pry ‘em loose with a drewscriver.

Check whiskey once more for tonsisticity.  Shtir in two cups of salt.  Or something white.  Pour another cup of whiskey, use both hands so you don’t spill.  Sift the lemon juice and strain your nuts.  Add one table.  Spoon.  Of sugar or whatever you have handy.

Grease the oven.  Turn the cake tin to 350 degrees.  Don’t forget to time the setter.  Aw, heck save time and put it where it would end up anyway: in the garbage.  Except the whiskey.  Finish the whiskey and crawl to bed.

Now, see.  Wasn’t that a simple recipe?  I believe I’ve made it before, but for some reason the whole episode seems kinda foggy to me…

Merry Christmas, everybody!

Well, something totally unexpected happened to the small town of Dickinson last night.  Now, keep in mind we live about 20 minutes inland from the Gulf of Mexico.  Or, as we call it, the Gulf Coast.  It’s pretty freakin’ tropical here.  OK, it can be unbearably tropical here.  Humidity hovers at 110% all summer and it’s not uncommon for it to never dip to freezing in the winter.

Now.  Keeping that in mind how often would you think we see snow?  Not often.  The freakiest thing I will ever be able to say about snow down here happened four years ago on Christmas Eve.  That’s right.  We had one of those rare snowfalls that only happens about once every 5 to 7 years and it was on Christmas Eve.  It was so beautiful Christmas morning.  My dear Miter and Pop live up a little bit north of Ft. Worth and get snow, usually every year.  Though, not always a lot of it.  They are both from the small town they live in and have never in their lives had a white Christmas.  It was pretty surreal calling them and telling them we were having one.

Last night it snowed again.  We got a good blanket of it and all my vegetation is bum-fuzzled.

Here’s crazy Kes out on the front porch in her nightgown! She doesn’t mind the cold, I guess…

Keelan with a severe case of dandruff… She does not seem to mind, though.

Doofus and Goofus

Unhappy bushes covered with white cold stuff.  They all got themselves pulled up and left in the morning, bitching the whole time.  They never did appreciate me…

This is my BIRD OF PARADISE.  It is so tropical it could (and does) live in Hawaii.  Only not this one.  It was silently screaming, “Aaaaaahhhh!  Get this cold shit off of me!  I am tropical, dammit!  My best friends are azaleas!  Even St. Francis in the bird bath was cussing…  It was bad.  But very pretty!  And I say that’s what counts!

Today I ran up to the Breast Imaging place right here in Dickinson and… imaged my breasts.  Those machines were “invented” by a man.

I rode up there with Lisa and her grandmother, Mimi.  Mimi and I had appointments as Lisa already had her boobs squished a month or so ago.  I tried to get her to do it again with us, saying things like, “Come on!  All the cool kids are doing it!  It’ll be fun!”

She thought not.  And I got a fresh reminder of why shortly thereafter.

You know it’s really not the squished boob that was so bad, (speaking for myself here), it didn’t bother me too much.  It’s that the machine is so uncomfortable everywhere else.  Digging into my ribs and shoulder and arm like that.  Is it really necessary?  I was thinking, as I held my breath for the nice little lady to click the damn film already, that if they just put some padding on the edges and corners of the deal and moved the stupid plastic shield that my face was pressed up against to a remote corner of the earth… well, I might find my way back there before another three years have lapsed as they did this time.

I know!  I know!  That’s no excuse, it’s true!  There really isn’t any excuse and I was happy that my girls looked good on film.  I’ll get the official results in 7 to 10 days.

And it’s over with for another year!

John is off today but he had to run up to the store for a bit to take care of the possible firing of one of the slackers up there.  The caregiver provider person is coming at 3:00 today instead of the usual 11:00 AM, so that worked out well.  When he gets back, my honey and I are going out to eat!  Woo-Hoo!

There is also a bizarre laundry list of things to do:

The ever-present grocery store run

Dash over to the barn to pay our LAST month’s rent on the paddock that we rent for the horses that are being sold.  Woo-Hoo! (Yes, again.)

dry cleaners

Vet’s office to leave flier for somebody to buy that colt.

Sherwin Williams store here in town to pick up the winner can of paint that I decided on for the front door.

It hasn’t rained in for freakin ever and was the perfect weather for painting something outside.  It started raining today and is unbelievably humid, now.  Of course.  I know I should use oil base paint and primer because it’s on my front door, yet, I HATE, let me say it again, HATE painting with that shit.  It’s not the paint that’s so bad as the clean up. The door gets no direct sunlight or weather on it.

Yes.  I will be doing it latex style.

Well, gang, that’s the update from chez Lopez.