HalfAsstic.com

Little bratty baby brother, Cam has hooked up with Scribble on Everything to reproduce his phenomenally popular Periodic Table of Typefaces into a wall decal.   Click on the pic of it at the Scribble website to see the different colors it comes in.  I myself like the “chocolate brown”.  Cam is going to be getting a little piece of the profits from the sale of them.  Go!  Buy!  My nephew needs college fund money!

There are going to be other things in the works here soon also if the wall decals aren’t your style  Among them posters and some nifty leather book jackets with the table printed across the entire thing.

I was sitting in the office, (a.k.a. riffraff room), when I overheard Henrietta talking to Tanya as she rolled her into the living room and, apparently, Ellen was on tv.

“You know, it’s such a shame she decided to become a lesbian… she was such a good actress.”

For a split second you could hear a pin drop as both Tanya and I digested this and then we just fell out and must have laughed and snickered for a good two minutes.

When I was on Twitter the other day I ran across a website I really like that Timebandit put up.  He says he can’t take the credit for finding it since a friend of his in Seattle sent it to him.  However he gets credit for it from me since I don’t know his friend in Seattle.  Check it out!

Witchypoo over at Psychicgeek linked me up with Schmutzie, who was so inspiring I made a few vows to myself.  Go read her post and watch the video on her site.

I’m thinking maybe I can stop trying so hard to write only light heartedly and get a little more gritty from time to time.  At least I’m trying to convince myself that no one would run away screaming if I did more than just occasionally bitch and get pissy about things when they go wrong.  I tend to rely too much on finding the humor in whatever situation I am plunged in.  Cause, really?  That’s not always possible.  And then?  I’m left with nothing to write about.

So now I guess you’re expecting me to be grateful for the fact that I live with two teenage girls and change the shitty diapers of a little old lady daily…  Heh!  Yeah.  Blog fodder!

Asking me to get it since I was up and talking about a box of Drumsticks of which two had already been eaten by Kes and myself.

John: Hey, get me a cone out of the freezer, please.

Kessa: I’ll take the third one!

Keelan: Oh! I’ll take the fourth one.

Kessa: No, I already ate the fourth one last night.

Well, at least they both laughed and Keelan called dibs on the…third(?) one.

Dear child of my loins,

You, (insert name here), and your sister are welcome to continue to live here in our house along with your father and me, (he will be getting his own letter), for the foreseeable future as long as you are in school or gainfully employed.  Please take note of the “gainfully” part.  This means that you will be expected to work enough to support your movie going, eating out, gas consuming, clothing buying, habits.  We will not be charging any rent.  Nor will you be responsible for any portion of the water, gas, electric, or phone bills.  We are even going to toss in payment for the insurance of your vehicles as a show of goodwill. That’s right.  You buy ‘em, we’ll insure ‘em.  We’re just uber cool like that.

All this and help with college, too?  At this point you’re probably asking yourself how you got so lucky.  You should be.

Also, take note that in that first sentence I referred to this establishment as “our house”, please understand that I am referring to your father’s and my house.  I know that we all refer to it as your house too, but lets face it, that’s loose terminology and it’s either that or tell everyone you are homeless, as in you do not own a house.  To keep from causing you embarrassment we decided when you were mere babes, (4 years old), we’d let you claim residence here, also.

You’re welcome.

Remember that reference to the fact that we are paying for your insurance?  We are, likewise, looking for that elusive “show of goodwill” thing to come from YOU.  The very next time I ask you, (And, yes, this does mean your sister too, because God forbid I should ask one of you to do something the other hasn’t been asked to do the exact same thing), to, oh, let’s see… take out the trash, I am now going to expect a response that doesn’t register on the Richter scale.  I might, from time to time, ask you to load the dishwasher or unload it.  This is not, as you may think, in anyway an attempt to bring on your premature death.  But, merely a normal household function that thousands, NO, millions of offspring your own age are actually performing without drama in homes all over the country.

Yes, I know you don’t believe me.  You are encouraged to do research on this whole phenomenon on your own. AND, there’s even more that you could find out if you so desired.   The fact that many young people your own age get along with one another and treat each other as people rather than plague infected rats.  You know.  The way you treat your friends.  This is how I would like you to start treating one another, because, frankly, I am fed up with mediation.  I really would just a soon let you kill one another as step in the middle of all that shit even one more time.

My patience with all that?  It has done worn thin, people.

So.  There you have it.  Good luck and my best wishes for your futures and I am sincerely hoping for you both to have a long life not cut short by any more drama mistakes you may be inclined to make in my house.

Love,

Mommy Dearest

The other night we went to Pizza Hut for, you guessed it, PIZZA.  So I am sitting in the car because I looked like hell and was in a white tee shirt with no bra and shoeless.  The homeless look is alive and well at chez Lopez.  Anyway, John went in to get the pizza after a quick glance at me determined there was no way I was going to do it, and I noticed this poster in the window.  Click it and notice it says that they have “Restaurant Quality Pasta”.

As opposed to…what?  I mean I know Pizza Hut is not a 5 star establishment, but it’s not a hot dog cart either.

Just wondering…?

Next, we have a close up of John’s shirt with the little guy on the horse attempting to whack the invisible ball with a mallet.  Only John managed to get a little something Chinese food wise on it at lunch and the horse in his particular version has, obviously, left a pile of poo behind.

What can I say… this amused me.

Remember this?  Lisa’s kitchen and living room, ages ago when the remodel began?  Well, here we have some update photos.  Everything is just about done completely.  She doesn’t have her art and pictures up on the walls yet in these shots, but I’m thinking maybe tomorrow or the next day I’ll get over there and we’ll do it.  She also has some wooden shutters ordered to go up on the windows.

There is a beautiful oil painting that we found at a frame shop the other day to go over her fireplace.  It will look totally different.

There’s not much else to say.  John is off work again tomorrow.  AGAIN.  TWO TIMES THIS WEEK.  Those people at his work who can’t seem to do without him may start to think he is having an affair… with his wife.

Oh well.

Cam has been working on a project and it has been in the works for months.

He finished it up and originally posted on Monday, March 9, here.

The page views on that original post as of Friday is up to over 30,000 which does not take into consideration the countless tweets and blogs that link to the large version of the image directly and countless more linking to other blogs that have it on their sites.  To show you what I mean, this is a link to direct Google hits.

His two inboxes are full of requests for prints as well as multiple offers for printing.  A professor at Cal Tech wants the image in his next year’s 5th edition textbook “Visual Communication Images with Messages” to which Cam already replied “Of course!”.

A company is interested in creating a large wall decal of the image.

He is holding out for his favorite printing company Hammerpress.  He is in talks with the owner and waiting (im)patiently for the final details.

I cannot believe the stir he’s caused in the world of graphic design.  All this from the little brother who’s toothbrush I used, in days gone by, to clean the grout around the toilet.

No, I am really SO very proud of him and can’t wait to see how all this unfolds.  When you click on the links, be sure and read all the comments.  He really is a quite amazing guy.

Now I bet he’s gonna want to be paid for any blog work I get… Sheesh.

Henrietta has nervous problems.  She is just a nervous person at heart and always has been.  Maybe it’s because, despite her nice pleasant, (most of the time), disposition, she is the worlds most negative person.  I can walk into her room with a huge smile on my face and dancing eyes, signs that anyone else in the world would take to be good tidings and say, “Guess what?!”  And she will pull a horrified face and practically tear up before replying, “Oh my God, what’s happened?”  This is just Henrietta.  And I’ve quit trying to “fix” her… as she is obviously broken.  Permanently.

Well, lately she has had a severe problem with itching.  It has been decided by everyone, nurses, caregiver provider, doctor, and most importantly ME, that it’s just her nerves.  Since there is absolutely nothing wrong with her skin at this point, I mean NOTHING, I have told her repeatedly, over and over and over that this is all it is.  It goes away as soon as I give her half an Ativan.  OK, not immediately, but in 10 to 15 minutes or so.  She knows this yet she still insists that she has to have her entire body slathered with ointment and lotion.  To “fight off the itch”.

Tonight I finished putting her to bed and was about to turn off the overhead light and she was telling me thank you and good night and she loves me and to tell her son she loves him too.  This is all standard stuff and we do this every night and I tell her all the same thing basically. Tonight she laughed and said “Tell him his itchy mother says she loves him.”  And then as I was about to shut the door she said, “Eh, Krissa, I said ‘itchy’, not bitchy.”  And then she just died laughing.

Sometimes she makes me remember that I really do love her.  And I guess as time has gone on, loving her has gotten to be less and less of a coping mechanism and easier to do just because.

Most of the time.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hal-le-lu-jah!  Tanya showed up, on time, with a smile on her cheery little face and went in and woke up H in sweet way and started singing A Spoon Full of Sugar like Mary Freakin Poppins took care of business.  Lisa and her grandmother showed up to pick me up after I showed her about the breakfast regime.  (First course, oatmeal with a dose of Miralax and cut up prunes. After this has been consumed and she’s been burped the egg gets scrambled and cooked while the breakfast sausage and roll or toast, whatever she has indicated she wants, gets warmed/toasted. Put on plate with salt and pepper and jelly on bread.  She likes salad forks, not dinner forks.  What’s that?  Oh, because she’s weird, that’s why.)

We went to Hobby Lobby, Garden Ridge Pottery and out to eat at Cheddars.  No, it’s not a cheesy place.  I don’t know why it has such a horrible name.  Really good food.  We had a wonderful time.

Kes came home from school in time for me to stay out as long as I wanted with Lisa and Mimi.  We had loads of fun.

I came home and now H is fed and in bed and I am waiting for my hubby to come home as it is our 20th anniversary! I got him a new cell phone for his gift as he desperately needed one and I think I got some perfume and I’m not sure what else…  I will see and report back.

On the bleak side of things, I have a rather disturbing picture I am going to shock and appall entertain you with.

The following is an image of my dear mither’s foot about a week after her foot surgery.

Yes, what you are seeing is a pin with a large white ball head on it, sticking out the end of her second toe.  Strangely, what bothers her most, (besides the pain from the surgery), is the blood around her toenails that she can’t clean off well due to the fact that she’s not supposed to get it wet.

The Pin started out pushed all the way in.  It has slowly worked it’s way out and is not supposed to do that.  She hadn’t walked on it at all and yet, it was wriggling out slowly.  She went back to the doc today and he said something like,

“Hummmmmm.”

And then he strapped some tape and gauze around the whole thing and duct taped it to the back of her ankle said he thinks it’ll be fine.

Doesn’t LOOK fine.  Looks gross.

At least child number two and her friend are going to go and see Mither and Pop for spring break.  They will be a really big help, I know.

I wish I could go.

Hi people!  Yesterday, after I posted that posty post about the wonders of Crystal the Prolific Caregiver, I snuck over behind Henrietta’s wheelchair where she couldn’t see me and pulled open her window about a foot so I would be able to hear her if she rang the *&^%$#@! bell.  I then went outside and pulled weeds like mad.  I had almost worked my way all the way across the beds in the front of the house when, while covered with dirt and wearing no make up at all, (not to mention with a bright red zit in the middle of my chin), a car pulled in and the little lady in it rolled down her window and asked if I was Ms. Lopez.  I asked her if she was a process server said yes, and she said her name was Tanya and she was our new caregiver.  She had gotten out of the car at this point and I yanked off my gardening glove and shook her hand.  She said she was just driving by so she would be sure and know where the house was tomorrow and thought she’d stop when she saw me.  (I’m hard to miss when I’m bent over in a flower bed with my ass poked out toward the road.  I gave her extra points for failing to mention this.)  Anyway, I asked her if she wanted to go in and meet Henrietta and she said sure, so she did and we really like her a lot.  A very sweet and outgoing, friendly person.

She showed up today, right on time and was a sweet, talkative little dear.  She kept laughing at every weird little thing Henrietta said and it just delighted her.  She likes her a lot.  Her husband came to the door and rang the bell to pick her up.  Didn’t sit out in the driveway and honk the horn like an ill bred teenage boy.  As soon as she left H said, “Oh! Krissa!  We’ve got to keep her!”

Could she be the one?  Is she going to be the caregiver I’v always dreamed of.  My match made in heaven?  Why do I feel like registering at the local department stores?

OK, half the post is in the title.  Whatever.

Remember this?  Crystal the caregiver provider from hell was all we had and we were pulling out our hair dealing with her the best way we could.  Until I fired her and changed companies because they were understaffed and didn’t have anyone else to fill her spot.

Welcome to my world today.  Where, once again we have the same company, (due to a long list of reasons) and we, somehow, I lost my freakin mind and someone should beat me within an inch of my life ended up with Crystal.  Again.

She was pregnant with twin boys the first time she was “working” for us.  She was in her first trimester and SO incredibly sleepy all the time.  Man, I remember that feeling.  And I sympathized with her.  I really did!  But she spent almost every moment she was here either on her cell phone texting her husband and friends or falling asleep.  Not to mention the main part of the reason I let her go was her penchant for not showing up or being an hour or so late.

Well, surely things will be better this time, right?

Wrong.  She has delivered identical twin boys, and that right there would make me want to slit my throat, but for some reason that has yet to become clear I thought things would be better now that she’s not pregnant anymore.

She showed up here Friday and was a sobbing, soggy mess.  She had obviously been crying hard for a while already.  I had her come in and sit down and spent about 45 minutes talking to her and helping her get her composure.  The VERY LAST THING I needed was her going in and letting on to H about ANYTHING that was upsetting her.

Guess what it was.  Go ahead, guess. Never mind, you never will.  Crystal who has one month old identical twin boys and another 3 year old at home is pregnant again.  She and her husband had been fighting about this latest revelation, though, at that point I don’t really know what there was to fight about.  She said her husband had “forced her out of the car at the entrance to the subdivision”, and she walked the rest of the way to my house.  She had left her phone in the car and he drove off with it.  Yet, somehow she had her charger in her hand and she had thrown it after him as he left.  He drove over it and smashed it.

Yes, here, in my little neighborhood of quiet, mostly older people who all know each other’s names and no one ever even speeds.  people return misdirected mail directly to you at your door.  Along with any escaped dogs.

This is NOT the kind of drama I want or need.

She repeatedly called her house and talked to her SIL over and over and she wouldn’t let her speak to her husband.  She was screaming profanities at Crystal over the phone that I could clearly hear just being in the same room with her.

She managed to get herself pulled together and went in after I made it very clear that she wasn’t to tell H anything about this.

I was going to go over to Lisa’s house, but I didn’t feel comfortable leaving at that point so I stayed.

I called the agency today and talked to someone who was very apologetic and they said there will be a new person out tomorrow!

Thank you God.

How to put this…?

Several times in the past few months there has been a little… eh, afternoon delight going on in the HalfAsstic boudoir when, WITH NO WARNING WHATSOEVER, there has been a knock on the door.  Or worse, a rattling of the doorknob.  (Which is always locked because hey, we may be naive enough to think that we can actually get amorous while the others in this house are awake, but we’re not totally storybook-stupid.)  And then there’s always the ubiquitous ringing of the damn bell from Henrietta, but there’s nothing to be done about that.

Aaanywaaaay, over a month ago I told Lisa that we had a Lucy and Ethel mission to go on that would only rate a 1 on the five star Lucy and Ethel Absurdity Scale, yet, it needed to be done.

Nay, it MUST BE DONE.

I could tell that she felt like I might be just wasting her time with a measly one star mission, but, in true BFF fashion she jumped on board.  When I explained the situation and what needed to be done to remedy it there was no question.  Appropriate measures would need to be taken.

My first instinct was to head to the local Motel 6 and just steal one off any old random doorknob.  Lisa would be the “get away driver”.  (Like I said, a dismal 1 on The Scale.)

Before any of this could happen Lisa left on a cruise with a few family members.  Her aunt knew about what I was in need of and though about me while on the ship.  Lisa returned with the very best “I went on vacation and you got stuck here changing shitty diapers and hauling an old lady around gift” ever.  For me anyway.