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A few months ago my next door neighbor came home with a new black Volkswagen Beetle.  Well, I do believe it was used, but only slightly.

First thing he did was begin to disassemble it and clean every. single. inch. of it.  I mean meticulously with a toothbrush and every cleaning product known to man.   New things were installed.  GPS system, radar detector, stereo, etc.

All this we could see from the window in our breakfast area.  The door panels were removed, the seats, the dashboard, the back where the engine is found was always open and the boot on the other end was more often than not as well.

This went on for MONTHS, literally.  Every single day, as soon as he got home from work and almost all day on weekends.

Finally, we were at a wedding reception, curiosity got the better of me and I asked his wife, “So eh…. what’s up with the new bug?  This elicited a huge eye roll and she asked me if I remembered Tim the Toolman on Home Improvement.

She then asked me if I remembered how nothing was ever good enough just normal and working correctly.  It could always be improved upon and souped up.  She said this was her husband and there was absolutely nothing wrong with that car and once he started taking the door panels off he messed up something in the anti-theft area and the car wouldn’t start anymore.  He finally talked to someone at a Volkswagen dealership that explained that he would have to have it towed in and they would have to call Germany and have it “reset”.

The other ladies and I died laughing.  I know we had all been wondering the same thing.    She said God only knows how much money he had spent on that thing just tinkering around and breaking stuff.

For your viewing pleasure, (And just cause I think they’re so darn cute!), here are a couple of more I’ve seen around here!

That red monster car parked on the other side of this one is the Lopez Family Truckster.  We were so honored by our parking space neighbor.

OK, so it’s not such a fancy paint job… But I loves me a bright yellow car.  I just think the license plate should say “NOLEMN”.  Heh.

The Hippie Surfer and a few others that I got off the internezzzz.

1966 Beetle and one of my favs!  I can totally see me driving this with matching lipstick and nail polish… maybe shoes and purse, too.  Heh

Iridescent!

OK, I am just not too sure about this, but it’s so bizarre I couldn’t resist.  I think it needs chrome hubcaps…

Free Toes, everybody!

These are all things that could happen some day… but, until they do it is in everyone’s best interest if they don’t , like, hold their breath or anything drastic like that.

Floors are an area of housekeeping that is an enigma for me.  I mean cleaning it has always been hit or miss at best.  I am quite careful of the dishes and keeping the kitchen clean.  My laundry is fastidious.    Toilets, clean enough to actually POOP in, (if you can imagine doing such a thing).   But the floors just seem like such a losing battle.  I mean, people actually WALK on those.  In their DIRTY SHOES.  And if anything gets dropped, nasty stuff or not, guess where it lands.  That’s right. Think about it, it has never made less sense to clean anything.

When the girls were babies, crawling around, I tied wet sponges to their little knees and hands and sent them on their way I made a better stab at vacuuming and sweeping and (yawn) mopping.  But as they grew older and developed immunity to plagues the ability to walk, their little faces shined, their hair gleamed and smelled of baby shampoo with a huge matching bow in it.  Their outfits were always washed, with no stains and perfectly pressed on the occasion it was needed.  Their little white lace-ups and sandals, always polished.  You’d never look at one of MY children and think that their mother was so ghetto that it would take a street sweeper to get her floors clean.  (Mither is going to DIE at that statement… maybe it’s a bit of an exaggeration.)

My dilemma now is somewhat different than it used to be.   I now have such “easy care” floors.  Ceramic tile in the kitchen, breakfast area, foyer and bathrooms and wood laminate through out the entire rest of the downstairs with the exception of my bedroom which is carpeted.   All the floors are… heh, “easy shine” .  But there is a buttload of them.  Did I say “buttload”?  Maybe I meant shitload… Hummm.  Well, for heaven’s sake!  Why am I second guessing myself?  I am just as certain of my housekeeping as I am of my grammar.

The hairy little dog doesn’t help things any.  She tends to produce great galloping dust bunnies that take on a life of thir own when turned loose in the house.  I guess they’re all domesticated, as far as I  know there aren’t any outside.

Trust me people, by the time they are entirely surrounded and caught, they usually have their own IQ’s.  It’s not unusual for me to have a showdown with them.

My particular variety sound a lot like Cheech and Chong…

Dust Bunny- “Hey, bitch!  You da maid?”

me- looking a bit scared, “…er, yeah?”

DB-”Woman, where you bean?”

me- “Uh, you know… dusting and… you know… there’s the shitty diapers and sheets and, and… WAIT A MINUTE!  You’re the dust bunny!  Why am I explaining myself to you?  GET OUT!  I’M GOING FOR THE BROOMY THING AND DUSTER PAN OTHER THING.  And I know you’re scared of those contraptions!”

DB- Clearly incapacitated by raucous laughter and drinking my beer, “Bitch, you don’ know how to use d’ose gizmo’s!  jes sit down and re-lax!”

me- With righteous indignation dripping out of my pours, yet sitting down just the same, “How DARE you!  I am the BIG CHEESE here buddy!  You need to get your shit together and get out!  YOU HEARD ME!  All your little dust bunny pets need to go too!”

DB- Taking a different tone now, “Now, come on chicka, settle down and  re-lax!  There’s a Boston Legal rerun coming on in just a few mee-nits and we can watch it…”

me- “Really?  Boston Legal?”

DB- “Suuuuure.  Ya know, chika… we could use some popcorn…”

Guess what?!  You can’t?  Really?  Cause I think you should just give it a try.  OK, OK, geeze, I was just trying to have some fun.  (And isn’t that a rather sad commentary on my life… )

OK the thing is that I have not only been awarded an award by a wonderful blogger that I love to read BUT, he has created it for ME!  Well, he was definitely thinking of me when he made it.

Predo, over at Spartacus Wore a Skirt, has bestowed upon me the coveted Dingle-Berry Award.  His reasons for doing so are varied and like everything he writes, very well put.  Let me just say that he has proclaimed me an expert in, “the world of Poo”.  And let me tell you, there is a lot of poo in the world.  I would know, as most of it seems to be here at this house.  Well, some days it is.  (Don’t be sending the health department out here.  They will run away scared.)

Anyway, as soon as my dear brother, Cam, gets the code-y thing for the award, he’ll pop that rascal right up here.

Thank You, Predo!

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Well, the dear little senior ding-a-ling  is home from her travels.  She went to Sea World in San Antonio over the weekend with The Boyfriend’s family.  Oh, and The Boyfriend.  They had a wonderful, if not sweltering, time.

Now, understand, Kessa is the biggest tightwad in the world and therefor, even if I had been sleeping with a hundred men when I got pregnant with her, no DNA test would be needed to prove she is her father’s direct descendant.   This is just the facts.  They are two of a kind.

Well, my darling daughter must love me a great deal because she brought me a coffee mug from Sea World that cost $10.00.  Ten dollars for a coffee mug.

Before I even even got to use it the first time, look what I did.

I’m sorry, Kessa.  John brought home a piece of salmon that was shrink wrapped in some plastic and when I picked it up off the counter to put it in the fridge the mug was sitting just a tiny bit on the edge of the plastic and it drug it off the counter and onto the floor.  Crash.

BUT, I still intend to use it!  I am going to get the bastard file out of the garage and file those nasty points down so that I don’t get blood all over myself every morning by slicing open my hands on it.  That would suck.  Of course that’s just a matter of opinion.

Bastard file

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And there are more happenings… let me think.

Here’s the quilt that Mither gave me when we were visiting her.  Isn’t it beautiful?  My great-great aunt made it.

John and I went to The Main Event the other day and went bowling!  Only the third time in my life I’ve been that I can remember.  Second time since I was grown.  Man did he beat me bad.  Don’t even ask me for a score… embarrassing.

Pardon the really bad picture quality, but I couldn’t use a flash very well when people were trying to bowl.  I mean they could all see my score and would immediately be convinced that I was so embarrassed that I was trying to sabotage their games to make mine look better.   Picture lynching and shoot outs.  You know- Texas.

Anyway, does this chick not have the hugest hair you have ever seen?  And it wasn’t just huge on the top and back.  No, no, it was… built way out on either side of her face.  And she was a young skinny little thing, too!  She had a couple of little kids with her that looked totally normal with normal hair.  It was kind of like a train wreck.  I just kept finding myself looking at her when she bowled.  I wish the picture was better.

Are you seeing this Angie of Big Hair Envy?  Cause, day-yum!

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I got new Crocs!  And aren’t they cute?!  I hardly take them off!  Plus, Kessa, who is on her feet all day as a pharmacy tech at the drug store, tried them on and immediately went out and got some for her to wear to work.   Tell me true! You’d never think these were Crocs, would you?  Ree, at Hotfessional, sold me on them and I’m glad I tried them on as I was instantly hooked.

Well, that’s it for me, you guys!  Henrietta is gonna want to poo anytime now and I gotta go get that  bedpan ready!

Free toes, everybody!

Dear Adorable Little Baby Squirrel,

What up?  Not you, that’s for sure.  You spend the majority of your time down on the ground eating the critter food I put out for you and your competition friends.  Yeah, the cardinals see you coming now… there’s no need to rush the whole group of them to get them to leave and make room for your fat ass.    Have you noticed it’s harder to get rid of the blue jays?  I know this is the biggest obstacle for you as far as your grub goes.  And I have also noticed how you have moved into our yard and not told any of your little squirrely friends.  It’s like all the sudden the food is free and easy to find and you stop socializing.   And get rather obese.  What I’m trying to say is these are signs of depression and you may want to see somebody about it.

Sincerely,

Your Benefactor  (The weird little lady that watches you out the window and laughs when you have gotten so fat that you can’t hold on to the side of the tree without dislodging large chunks of bark.)

Dear Lovely Neighbors,

You people are wonderful in every way, truly the nicest neighbors in the world.  Really.  Loves you lots.  But can you say, “Overachiever”?  The lawn watering, shrubbery grooming, flower planting, weed pulling thoughtlessness of you narcissistic yard-of-the-monther’s is wearing thin.  Have you ever stopped and thought that you are making the slackers less exuberant landscaping homeowners feel even more apathetic shame and disgrace about their yard?

Well, I feel sure that now that I have pointed this out you will try to curtail the all that yard work.

Thanks heaps,

The Messicans on the Block

Dear Ding-a-Ling Daughter (the Junior),

I told you so!  Yes, I will say it again, I told you so!  Complaining for ages that your back hurts and then, telling me that you don’t want to go to the chiropractor because you don’t like wearing paper gowns, is not the brightest idea you’ve ever had.  And see the gowns weren’t paper, they were cotton!  In this family we like to show a little class when we flash our ass out of the back of our clothing!

SEE!  The doctor was very nice and she didn’t torture you at all.  And don’t get all pissy with me about the electric stimulus thingy.  If I had told you she was going to hook you up to electrodes and shock you, would you have gone?  YES, you would have, but it would have been more of a, “Because I said so!” type of thing and less… self propelled.  Bottom line is, does your screwed up little back feel better now or not?  Well, it will after you go back on Monday.

YES, YOU ARE!  DO NOT START WITH ME….

Your ever-loving Mother

Dear Henrietta,

Last night was a bit trying, I know.  And indeed it was my fault that I let you run out of the Ativan.  You see the bottle said there were two refills left and I didn’t pay attention to the fact that the date had expired.

You know those little pills only last for four (4) hours?  Yep, it’s true.  I am betting your inability to sleep for the entire night could be directly contributed to the fact that we didn’t have a handy-dandy placebo.  If we had, you would have done fine.  Shedding all those crocodile tears this morning because you were, “tired” couldn’t have helped any.  And the “diarrhea” you are convinced you had?  Due entirely to your nerves…or maybe that you are on my last one.  Huh?  Wonder if it could work that way?

Where was I?  OH, YES.  Your grand-daughter, Ding-a-Ling (the Senior), is going to bring home your precious little white pills with her when she gets off work.  If you’re good, I will give you one. (Read: I would rather die than have you go without that damn pill for another horrible, sleepless night.)

Sincerely,

The Bitch That Has Complete Control of the Dispensing of Pills in This House

Dedicated to Witchypoo

P. Avium

But, that’s not what I call you.

I lust after you,

Dark red and sweet

And day dream

That your trees

Line my street.

I consume you

By the pound

In quantities that

Would astound.

When on sale

For a mere,

99 cents a pound.

No, this poetry thing

Is not my forte,

Yet, after sitting and

Eating them all day,

This, I can

Assuredly say,

I like the sweet ones,

Not the tart.

What’s that noise?

Why, that’s a fart.

Well, I have to say it’s hard to call this guy and his fat chick, sidekick “stupid” just yet.  They STILL aren’t caught.  This has been going on for months and John is at his wits end, with them AND the League City cops.

My dear husband was recently moved from the store in League City, (literally less than 5 minutes from our house), to a store in Pearland, ( a good 45 minute drive).  But for at least two months before he was transferred they were having a really, really bad problem with some guy and his fat wife or girlfriend coming in and filling a basket with boxes of frozen crab legs and walking out the door like they owned the place.  John decided early on that the door they were entering and leaving through, (they were caught on camera over and over), would be altered so that customers could only enter through it and would have to go out through the other door, over by the checkers.  I know that sounds bizarre, but this store he was at is huge like you wouldn’t believe.

Well, the guy adapted pretty quick.  They figured out, with the help of the cameras, that he was getting a basket of the crab legs and/or steaks and hanging out on an isle watching until somebody came in triggering the door to open and he would break for it.  This happened two to three times a week to the tune of $500.00 to $600.00 a time.

We struggled with lots of different ideas about how to stop them.  Security tags didn’t work. (He just kept going and threw everything in the awaiting get away car before anyone ever moved to respond.)  I wanted them to just pay someone to sit down low behind one of the meat counters at the back of the store and do nothing but watch the frozen crab legs case.  But where no one could see him and when the guy showed up and started filling his basket, it would be pretty obvious who it was and he could call John’s cell phone.  There would be a warm reception waiting for him at the door.  John liked this idea and pitched it to his boss.  The poor little man is a tad shortsighted and said that it would “cost too much money to pay someone to sit and do nothing but watch the crab legs case”.  Of course he would only have to have someone do it for a couple of days, at the most, but oh well.

John found out on a Friday that he was going to be moving to the new store on a Monday.  The one thing that we were very despondent about was that the Krab Leg Killer Thief was still on the loose.   John and I talked about how to catch him almost every day.  He thought he could probably ID him if he saw him, but he wasn’t sure.  The video surveillance footage looks horrible.  Once someone is caught it’s possible to ID them looking at it, but recognizing someone from on of the pics is unlikely.

John went in to work on his last day, Sunday and texted me later in the day saying, “Very busy.  With cops.”.  I didn’t think too much of it as they’re always having to have cops in for one shoplifter or another.

Then.  He called me in a few hours and told me that he had been about to re-enter the store and saw a guy, exiting with crab legs and steaks piled up in a basket.  No grocery sacks.  He walked up to him and asked if he had a receipt for the items, (knowing that of course he didn’t).  The man said his wife did and she was still in the store.  John said, “OK, lets go see her.”  He grabbed the basket and the guy took off running.  He ran to an outer edge of the parking lot where he jumped into his car and went screaming out of the lot.  There was an EMS person who was there and he radioed for the cops, but, obviously they were too late to catch him.  One of the other store employees was close enough to get his license plate number and he gave it to the police.

Fast forward about a week and John was here in the Dickinson store parking lot.  He had just gone up there to pick up some groceries.  The guy was parked in front of the liquor store next to the grocery store in the shopping center.  He saw John get out of his car and he freaked out and went speeding out of the parking lot.  John jumped back in the car and started to follow him.  The guy drove like a maniac, against traffic and cutting people off and basically reckless trying to get away.  Which he did.

THEN, in another week or two, John saw him again parked out in the same spot right next to the Dickinson store and he was just sitting there waiting for his wife/girlfriend to come out with the stolen goods.  He saw John and took off again.  This time he didn’t get any of the product.  He took off down the freeway and John was in hot pursuit.  The guy went up to the next exit and took it.  John was already on the phone with the people at the store and telling them that there was a fat woman in there with a basket of crab legs and steaks and they needed to go and find her.

The dumbasses said, “Uh… nooooo.  We don’t have any of that over here…”  The guy finally lost John, (who was about to run out of gas), and so he headed back to Dickinson.  When he got back the guy was already there in the parking lot and apparently he had called his chick and told her to dump and run.  She was getting in the car.  He looked like he had seen a ghost when he saw John and went hauling ass out of the parking lot AGAIN.

This time he went under the freeway and up the service road.  The idiot made a desperate attempt at losing John by turning down the road that leads to our subdivision.  In short order he saw the dead end sign down at the end of the road, and he neatly turned off into one of the two ways in and out of the neighborhood.   He had clearly never been here before.  John parked on the road, between the two entrances and waited for him.  In about five minutes he came driving up to the stop sign and looked both ways, (Acting like a responsible driver!).  He then saw John sitting there and promptly shit his pants went white as a sheet and took off again.

John, (who is afraid of no man), does so badly not want to get our car, (which is paid for), in any wrecks.  (Can you say only liability insurance?)

As far as I know the stupid League City cops who have plenty to charge the guy with still haven’t bothered to pick him up.  If they even know where to find him.  I am assuming the license plate registration is for somewhere he no longer resides.

Bottom line be on the look out for a dark green ‘93 Ford Explorer.

When he got back to the store John walked around and found the abandoned cart on aisle 2.  This time it looks like it was only steaks and ribs…

Pardon John’s cell phone pictures, not the best quality…

The second day we were at my parent’s house we had to go to Greenwood to eat hamburgers at one of the three buildings that make up Downtown Greenwood.  Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration.  There is no “downtown”… just Greenwood.  All three buildings of it.

This is the home of the best hamburger in Texas...and that's saying a lot.

The WHAT museum?

And finally… it’s not a hick town without a volunteer fire department.

Impressive, no? Greenwood isn't large enough to have it's own fire department so they share with Slidell. They share TWO firetrucks. Or at least they have two garage doors.

The best part of going with the whole gang to Greenwood is that my great nephews and niece got to go too!  Get a load of these cuties!

Here's Tristyn, Pop, and Khristian

Fine company, indeed!

Pop seems to think that Khristian is a hoot when he's sporting Nana's sunglasses.

And this beautiful little lady is just as lovely as her brothers are adorable. Her name is Kayler. Isn't she a doll?

Kes and The Boyfriend had a wonderful time as well.

Hamburgers? You bet!

Here's a shot of the counter and gigantic grill behind it. Can you say, "Hole in the Wall"?

Isn’t it funny that these types of places, inevitably have the best food?

So then we all went home, with VERY full tummy’s.  John, Pop and The Boyfriend went down to Grimy Gulch to target shoot.  John brought his S&W 357 with him and TB bought a 45mm Glock  while he was in town.  No telling how many boxes of ammo they went through.  Kes and Kee and I all had fun taking turns.  I am not nearly the shot I used to be.  (I SWEAR that sight is OFF!  I mean I can’t be THAT bad!)  I have pictures of them shooting, but they are on Keelan’s camera so I will have to go all the way upstairs, open the door to the black hole of despair that is her room her room and climb over mountains of shit enter and employ bloodhounds find said camera.

Maybe later. 

We got back to the house and ate my mom’s GUMBO.  OH MY GAWD ya’ll!  It is the most wonderful thing ev-ah!  Sooooo good.  We ate tons of it!  I wish I had some more!  Right now!  MOOOOOOOOOOOOM!    I want’s me some gumbo!  You can ship gumbo, can’t you?  Why not?  Cost how much?  I’m worth it, aren’t I?

Oh.  I’m sorry.  I seem to have dragged all of you intertoob people into my side of the conversation that I know I could have with Mither.

The girls and TB and Mither and I all were watching TV in the living room when Kes, (who was sitting on the floor, said something like, “Ow… something stung me…” and she was looking at her hand.  She had felt something crawling on her arm or somewhere and flicked it off and when she did it stung the flicking hand.

The flicked item was, apparently, flicked on The Boyfriend.  Who was then stung on the arm.  Then we were all up and the lights came on and we were looking for the scorpion.  There would be no rest until we got the damn thing out. (Meaning dead.)

Finally.  We located and beat hell out of it.

Squished, mutilated, hard to recognize scorpion.

The Boyfriend slept on the couch,because even though there is enough square footage in that place to put a hotel, it is only three bedrooms and John and I got one, Kes and Kee got the other and Mither and Pop, didn’t feel like vacating.

I bet he dreamed of scorpions, cause he was a tad freaked out.  Heh.

Well, here I sit.  I bet you people thought you must have heard the last of me, huh?  It’s been a while!  I headed out of town on Monday to go and visit Mither and Pop.  Along with my entire immediate family!  John and both girls plus The Boyfriend for bonus!

The reason I never posted to tell you dear people that I was jumping ship was because this trip was SUPPOSED to be a secret and a huge surprise for Nana.  She knew Kes and Keelan and The Boyfriend were going to visit with her, but had no idea that I had made arrangements for H to be taken care of by my SIL and John had vacation and all the planets aligned just right and we were all going to go and be there together for the first time in years.

Sadly, I can’t seem to keep a secret, Kessa slipped up and her nana suspected that maybe John and I were going to come, too.  So, when I blew it and practically spelled it out for her when I accidently gave up a clue, she figured it out.  This was just a couple of days before we left and I was embarassed to tell the kids, because I had threatened them with certain death if they let her know and FOR ONCE they were actually scared of me I had expressed such a strong desire to keep it a secret and cautioned them…strongly, to keep it to themselves.

So Mither was in the know when  we got there.  Oh well.

We had a ball and did all sorts of things.  Not to mention we got to go and see the “new” house that’s in town and Mither and Pop have decided they want to buy.  The place they live now is so wonderful it’s hard to describe, truely a paradise, yet, it’s sooo much too much for them to have to take care of anymore.  The house is gi-normous and the acerage is too.

Time to downsize.  So this needs to be sold.  Please take a sec and click the “button” in the middle and look at all 10 shots of their place.  Tip of the iceberg.

What I’m trying to point out here is that while they are needing to downsize… BAD, it must also be a truly wonderful house.  Or as Kessa and Keelan are fond of saying, “Nana-licious”.  I’m not sure, as it’s a fairly new word and Webster’s doesn’t know about it yet, but it may be spelled Nanalicious.  I will be talking with their people any day about the next updated version of that particular dictionary.

Moving right along…

Enter the new house that Mither and Pop have their hearts set on: here.  Yes, go ahead and look at all the pics of it and tell me…  Even though the bizarre realtor seemed to be fixated on the bathrooms and the outside(?), the inside is indeed wonderful.  We broke into it took our own tour, twice and took a million pictures.  I WILL be posting some of those in a future postypoo.  They are still not even off of my camera.

Now, nobody is to dare  consider buying this particular house… (Sush!  I can too dictate this!)  But if you would like to buy Mither and Pop’s present house, I am sure they would be delighted and the “new” house is just right in town and I could come and visit you when I go and see them!  And I would, too!

Well people, this is enough for today.  I have to get these pictures downloaded and catch up on some blogs!  I am sorry I haven’t been reading, but I was visiting!

I’ll post again, soon!  Free toes, everybody!

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.