HalfAsstic.com

Hello me lovelies! And how are you doing today? (Picture me nodding appreciatively.) Yes, yes… very good. That’s just great. Me? Oh, I’m just fine.

Or am I? No, thank you so much for asking, by the way, but I am NOT fine. I am steamed up. And not the way the title would lead you to think, either.

For the pitiful few men stumbling upon this blog, Sorry. You’ve been duped into thinking it’s going to maybe be racy. You couldn’t be more wrong. Not this particular one. But you never know, so keep checking back!

Now, where was I? Oh yes! I am all steamed up about something.

Remember last Christmas when I said I wanted a nook? It’s an e-reader put out by Barnes and Nobel. Well my wishes were heard by more than you guys! Santa Clause, John, Mither and Pop, and the girls all pitched in and bought me one. And I was thrilled with it. It worked great and was easy as pie to use. It allowed me to read any book I downloaded in extra hugeass sized font as well as bookmark, highlight, and look up words as I was reading. It’s small, lightweight, slim, fits into my purse very easily and never left my side. Well, not much anyway. Downloads for almost all new releases are $9.99 and I was rapidly working towards getting it to pay for itself when all of the sudden, it got a bit damp. It probably wouldn’t have been the end of the world since it was just a tiny bit of water that apparently got splashed from a glass, but it was in the protective gel case I bought for it and the water quickly went underneath it and pooled in the bottom. I didn’t know it was there and it sat in it for a while before I discovered it was wet. Soaking in it.

Anyway, I wasn’t the least bit worried because the nice little people at Barnes and Nobel sold me a handy dandy 2 year protection plan that is bumper to bumper, covering everything 100%. So I called the wonderful people at nook and talked to some very nice little man who did a “rapid return” and I had a new nook, literally the next day being dropped off by UPS. I then boxed mine up with the postage paid shipping label they emailed me and dropped it off at the nearest UPS drop off place.

No problem. This product and service is glorious. Etc. Etc. Etc.

Now the second one I got automatically had everything I had put on my old one as soon as I went on it and registered it to my account. I picked right back up with the book I had been reading and was soon engrossed in it.

Then the pages  started being really slow to turn. The old one hadn’t done that.

The thing would shut down quite unexpectedly and have to be restarted.

Then it started freezing up and would refuse to turn the page until I turned it off and back on. Remember the font was set in extra large hugeass size for me, so I am flying through pages pretty fast and when it does that every three pages, it sucks.

Then, all of the sudden, when I turned it off, it wouldn’t turn back on. Nothing. Well, crap. I waited a few days just because you have to spend a good deal of time on the phone when you call them, not just waiting on hold, but trying all the things that I had already tried, (like taking out the battery and putting it back in, etc.), while on the phone with a tech person.

So I called the people and went through the whole mess with them and the guy finally took my credit card number and said that the new nook was on it’s way. I guess they overnight them, or maybe do second day air. I don’t know, it’s just really fast. So almost a week later I am wondering WHERE THE HELL MY NOOK IS and I NEED SOMETHING TO READ, DAMMIT! am having some mild, reading withdrawal symptoms. I begin the extraction of hair on my head, by the roots, patiently wait a few more days.

You know I should take a sec and explain that that credit card number was so that they would have something to have on hold while they are waiting for their broken one to get back to them and I had 15 days to get it dropped off at the nearest UPS place before they would apply a charge for a new nook to my card. No problem, this seemed reasonable. They really are a bit expensive. The nook itself is $260.00 and the two year “Protection Plan” is another $70.00.  So it’s a rather large investment when you put it in perspective. I mean $330. isn’t much to pay for like, braces or something like that. Hey, it’s a heck of a deal! But this is just a lot of books! It is a frivolous thing in the grand scheme.

So the first time I talked to them about this particular nook and they were taking my card number and sending me a new one was on the 20th of February.

So I decided to call the dumbasses at nook headquarters. DUMBASSES IS TOO ONE WORD!

Huh? Oh, sorry. I lose my train of thought sometimes when I am STAND BACK! ABOUT TO BLOW! agitated, this can happen.

Loooong story short, (I know, too late… nobody likes a smartass. SMARTASS IS TOO ONE WORD!), I got Ali on the phone and he was polite, professional, good-natured, and not the least bit helpful.

I was on the phone for over an hour and a half, people. I could almost hear Ali thinking, “OH, DEAR LORD, PLEEEEEEEASE LET ME HANG UP WITH THIS WOMAN!” And I SO wanted to. Yet, I kept not getting the answer I was looking for.

So I just stay on the phone until someone there gives it to me.

Actually, John and I were both talking to them. Ali told us that the protection plan that we had purchased would only replace a nook I damaged accidentally, one time.

That? Is SO not what the people at Barnes and Nobel told us.

The argument was on.

First of all where the hell is my nookie? It’s been a week and it’s not here and they are going to charge my credit card for the old one after 15 days. That’s half gone! I’m not sending the old one back till I get the new one. I was very firm about that.

There never was an answer for that question. No tracking number they could give me. Nothing. And considering how much just one little gizmo costs you’d think they’d keep better track of them.

Second of all, I didn’t do anything to damage this nook, it was defective when I got it. Refurbished? That’s what I’m thinking. The other one worked great! But to tell me that I have no more coverage for damage by me dropping it, or running over it with the car, or letting a St. Bernard slobber all over it, or an eagle picking it up and depositing it in it’s nest for it’s babies to poop on? Well, THAT? is not what I was told when we purchased the “plan”. We argued this point with Ali and his supervisor for over an hour. While I was on the phone with them John got on his and called our local Barnes and Nobel and asked to speak to some one about purchasing a nook. He was promptly directed to a nook specialist. He asked about the nook and the protection plan and asked if the nook would continue to be replaced for the two years the plan is effective even if it is repeatedly dropped or abused by moi. “Oh, yes, Mr. Lopez! As many times as needed during the two years the plan covers! It’s foolproof!”.

Apparently this guy doesn’t know the fools at 1.800.THE.BOOK.

So then John asks to speak to a store manager and poses the same question to him. He is told the same thing from the manager. It is covered 100%, no matter what happens or who’s fault it is for two years. Bumper to bumper, as it were.

He took the phone from me and proceeded to tell the people at the mysterious call center that we were assured when we bought it that it was covered, and they are still telling us that it is covered for any problems I cause it.

And you know I can, too.

They then asked if we read the “Protection Plan”. NOW I’m pissed. Not just insanely frustrated. Completely. Ticked. Off.

If you go to this web site you can read the entire fascinating, small texted policy. Really! Just go ahead! Ton’s of fun!

I love to read and I couldn’t get all the way through. Besides I found where it admits that the afore mentioned fully covered thing isn’t entirely. It’ s waaay down  in the ugly insides of the thing. On towards the poop end.

Not to mention, we discovered that we are able to take the dumb thing back and get an exchange at the store! Those people are going to stand by what they believe to be the policy and exchange anything we take there. Until the dumbasses up in the corporate ivory tower figure out what is going on waaaay down here and pass down some mandate saying that the store employees have been instructed to do their sales pitch wrong.

Anyway, here it is, Saturday night and still I have no nookie.  *sob* At least John is going to be home from work soon and I’ll get some nookie from him!

Well, shit. Are you serious? That’s it? I laid my soul bare about my prejudices and radical views of limiting how many penis bearing boy children a person could have and…. wait a minute! That’s China! And it’s not boys, it’s girls! (Not to mention it was no time recently, but, whatever…)

And, really? I didn’t do that, though I considered it. Maybe that would get me some hate mail, ( or is that hate male? HAHAHA!), and then I would feel like a “real blogger”.  *sigh*

Oh well, I tried. Now I will have to blast God or something to get noticed… Shit. I really hate to tempt fate like that and can’t seem to find any steam to put behind it so I guess I will just pass.

OK, not to mention I don’t blast God for, like, anything.

Once again I am in bed and Jeopardy is on. We love that show. Ever since John got so sick with the congestive heart failure back in October, he has been too tired to watch it with me most of the time. It comes on at 11:35PM.

You know, it is the most bizarre thing. I mean to think it could happen to anybody! John was just going about his business one day and the next he had caught a virus that would ultimately infect his heart. We didn’t know that it would of course. But, it did and I can honestly say that I don’t remember when he got the “cold” that started this whole thing off. I just remember that he started coughing sometime during last September and he hasn’t really stopped.

I mean he has never smoked. He lives a blame free lifestyle. He doesn’t drink excessively, or actually I guess I should say he didn’t, since he doesn’t drink at all now. Whatever. He is well behaved. To be honest he would have to be or I wouldn’t have married him.

Well, there you have it. He started coughing in September and went in the hospital October 1st. He spent 22 days in there and he’s still totally screwed up.

He almost died and I keep thinking it’s still going to happen if I look away for a second. I don’t know why my paying attention would help… That’s how egocentric I am, I guess.

If you or your spouse has the opportunity to sign up for long term disability insurance at work…

Do so. Please remember that… Do so.

We didn’t and even though he could get the disability go ahead from any of his doctors at any time, we don’t have it, and Medicare’s disability insurance isn’t enough to keep a gnat alive. At least not these gnats.

I don’t really know what we are going to do in the long run, but we are looking into all possibilities.

Anyone wanna lease a little old lady? I know I make it sound glamorous, but really!

She Could Be Yours!

(For a limited amount of time and restrictions apply…Though I can’t think what they may be…)

Well, now Craig Ferguson is on and the lady that wrote The Glass Castle, Jeannette Walls is on and I really loved that book. So I am off to watch mindless television, me lovelies!

You know. I have several friends, some of them extremely close, who have male children that are wonderful, sweet, mature for their age, able to show emotion, completely functional people that are not emotionally or psychologically stunted.

And then there are the others.

I am admitting to something here that is very hard for me. I am biased and prejudiced and probably not a decent human being. But, hey, I’ve still never had any hate mail and am waiting for it before my chest can swell up with pride and I can feel like a real blog writer!

I am prejudiced by sex.

No. This isn’t a “sexual” post. It is a sex post. Ok, that still sounds a bit creepy. Let’s try this again.

My whole life I have been around people with nice little girls and horrid little boys.

OK that’s not really true. Most of the people I have known have had it that way. I have to admit that there have been those that had very nice, sweet, well behaved, human little boys. But they were in the minority.

Not that they didn’t exist! And I am not by any far stretch of the imagination trying to say that all boys are vulgar, violent, hateful loudmouths who will do anything to draw attention to themselves…

Some of them just seem that way at times, and it throws the others in the fire.

Really, the problem is clearly MINE. We wanted girls both times. We got girls both times and I think we ended up feeling superior for obvious reasons. Not so much because we trumped the “dealer”. (Two out of two… Woo-Hoo!) But because we went into this whole thing with preconceptions about the differences between boys and girls. (I still feel bad about that.)

I remember telling John and the doctor that I really wanted to know what sex the baby was because we wanted a girl and if it was a boy we needed time to get to want him as much as we already did a gitl. And we would have, too. There would definitely have been no sad faces in that delivery room if the thing had popped out with a penis.

But we were forewarned and happily anticipating our first and second daughter.

Now comes the part that you are going to suspect is fiction more than fact.

I swear, I am telling the God’s honest truth.

Those two were the most perfect babies and toddlers that you have ever come across.

There is 17 1/2 months difference in their ages and they were thick as thieves in their early years. One did not ever do anything without the other and they constantly looked out for the other as well.

They have grown apart during Jr. High and High School, but are starting to pull back together again just as destiny dictates. They’ll be fast friends  before long and best friends for life.

I say so.

But that doesn’t make them the perfect children to raise, does it?

I swear, I am not lying, neither one of them ever had a “terrible two tantrum”, or three or anything else for that matter.

I never had to wrestle them to get them to take medicine. Even when tiny babies. I just put the foul tasting stuff into a medicine giver with a nipple on it and they made horrible faces while sucking it down. (I know, you’re wondering about intelligence here… turns out to be above average! Surprised me, too!)

They were so obedient that it made me stop and take stock and pray over and over that God wouldn’t second guess what he had given us and make it hard. Because it wasn’t. They did everything I told them to as if it was not comprehensible not to. It simply didn’t occur to them to test the system.

I feel so horrible for new mothers, or even mother’s of older children who are having a really hard time and I can’t even imagine what they’re going through.

I swear mine were perfect. I would do the entire thing again in a heartbeat.

Yes, I know the nursing every three hours was a pain and all that, but it didn’t last forever. Just a little blip in my lifetime and hers as well. Plus, I can’t say it wasn’t enjoyable. That’s the one time that I could see my daughters looking up at me knowing it’s only me that can do this for them. And it was so good to feel so connected.

They were cuddly and sweet and loved hugging and kissing. This is something that boys, in general just don’t do. (Note the “in general”, I DO know that there are those penis bearing types out there that are loving in this way, but I still feel they are very much in the minority.)

They never put anything in their mouths that did not belong. I swear, they didn’t try to eat everything in sight that would fit into their mouths. Only food that was put into a plate in front of them. They were clearly much smarter than other kids their ages in that they could identify FOOD. They had teething rings and what not and got through all that unhappy crap really early. Like, I’m not kidding you, between 5 and 12 months.

They didn’t pick up anything and attempt to make a weapon out of it. There was not beating or hitting.

Ever.

There was no screaming or yelling. They didn’t spend the majority of their time attempting to be so obnoxious that there was no way to not to notice them.

As a matter of fact they were so confident in themselves there was never any reason for them to scream.

They just calmly said what was on their mind and trusted that the world would see their insight or questions for what it was.

Heh. I like to think, “From the mouths of babes”, was coined after them.

It SO wasn’t.

I believe Jesus said it, though I can’t think why. Or what book it’s in… Oh well.

So does it make me a horrible person to feel like, just in general, girls are so superior to boys?

I am writing this while John is asleep beside me and baby is between us at the foot of the bed. She is making funny little grunting and sighing noises in her sleep. I wonder if she is dreaming of a hamburger? Every now and then she begins to run in her sleep… wonder if the burger is making her chase it?

Well, Henrietta is sitting quietly in her wheelchair in her room. I say quietly because she isn’t crying or yelling for Gilbert to come in there or ringing the *=$#@&! bell for service.  I brought her in the dining room earlier and rolled the table to one side so I could roll her chair right up to the window and she could see the cardinals and blue jays and squirrels fighting for the food I put out on the feeder in front of the window. She greatly enjoyed this and I thought she might stay here for a while.

Nope.

She started rolling out of the room and down the hall in just a few minutes.  Oh well. It was a thought. It just seems to me the more she stays in there the worse her mind gets.

We may need an exorcism.

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I started to name this post, “Tragedy has struck” or something like that, but thought with John’s health problems of late that might not be best. Too easy to get the wrong idea before reading the post.

However, there has been a tragedy of another sort.

Remember Cecilia? Well, I was able to “fix” her. We won’t go into what I found out was the problem and how disgusting and embarrassing it was to admit. (NASTY BLACK…. GUNK. GROWING, reproducing… pooping, and doing all sorts of nasty things in the water reservoir.  I think I heard it laugh at me when I shined a light down in that black tank to see what it looked like. It had it’s own IQ, people.)

Well, I am just not down with that. The only place I am content to grow hairy things that are perfectly capable of turning into monsters that could overthrow the household is in the vegetable crisper. There’s plenty of light in the fridge and I am at lest aware of how bad it’s getting and can warn people not to even open that drawer.

Yes. That’s what I do…. Don’t you?

I think I am getting off track here. I was reminding you all of Cecilia so that you can appreciate how totally in mourning I am when I tell you that the EXPLETIVE HERE, dishwasher won’t wash. I mean, it will wash, but only with fairly cold water. Not nearly hot enough to say, remove grease. Or sanitize. And there is no heat to dry the dishes with either. It sounds to me like the heating element has gone out. Or maybe the thermostat in it is broken. Or, as some smart arse repair person pointed out to me on the phone, it’s an electronic gizmo in the computer brain of it.

I don’t know, but it is a Bosch and supposed to be a superior product dishwasher-wise. This means it costs a fortune to repair. So, until next month when we can afford it, I am washing dishes.

And drinking coffee with my best friend… Cecilia.

Or YOU if you want to come on over, I would love to have you! You don’t have to be scared of Henrietta! Well, not TOO much…

Henrietta has been up to some new shenanigans while I was away with Lisa at Mither’s and Pop’s. I got regular reports on her downward spiral.

John tells me that she wheeled her chair into the living room looking for Kessa’s boyfriend, Gilbert, more than once. When she couldn’t find him she was convinced they were hiding him from her.

My SIL was staying here over the weekend to help with her care and when she fell asleep on the couch and didn’t respond to the frantic bell ringing that H was hammering away at, well, she just assumed the obvious.

“What is that, Krissa?”, you’re wondering. Don’t worry. I’ll tell you. She informed the family that Gilbert had been here and sneaked in the house in order to hypnotize  SIL with his hypnosis machine.

See Homedics Foot Massaging Hypnosis Machine below:

John explained to her that this particular machine was bought by Jared, Keelan’s boyfriend for her for Valentine’s Day. She’s a carhop at Sonic and her feet get tired.

She would have none of it. She remained convinced that when her daughter fell asleep on the couch and didn’t wake up to her ringing the bell for her, she would have had to have been hypnotized.

When I got back I made a point of going in there and sitting on the couch with my feet on the thing as it whirled around under me rubbing the soles of my feet. She looked long and hard at me before asking me questions about what it was. I just acted like I didn’t know anything about what had happened and told her what it was.

That didn’t keep her from casting sidelong glances at it all evening.

She also told SIL and Tanya, her home healthcare provider that Gilbert was practicing voo-doo on John and that’s why he falls asleep in his comfy chair and that when he does he can’t be woken.

Absurd stuff just continues to spew forth. It is a never-ending font of tabloid news that nobody else in the world could possibly care anything about.

Too funny.

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And since Red over at In the Wheel, asked for it, here it is!

Oatmeal Cookies

1 C sugar

1 C brown sugar

1 C shortening or butter

2 eggs

1 t. vanilla

1 1/2 flour

1 t. baking soda

1 t. salt

3 C of  quick oats

’bout 6 oz. of butterscotch chips

chopped pecans

Mix it up, chill it for a few hours and drop cookies on cookie sheet to be cooked at 350 degrees for about 10 minutes.

Oh, and honestly, I use butter in just about everything, but butter flavored Crisco makes the cookies rise sooo much better and they just do better with it.

To speed up the chilling process that seems to be necessary to get them to come out right, I stick it in the freezer for a while.

These truly are my all time favorite cookies. Enjoy!

Hello duckies!  I have been totally out of pocket for a few days and am happy to report that I am back in action!

Lisa and I took a Thelma and Louise road trip up to my folks house in Decatur, Texas. Mither was having some blood pressure problems and even went so far as to get admitted to the hospital via the emergency room a couple of days before we went up. She is aaaaall about the drama when she wants a visit.  We told her it was unnecessary and just a simple invite would suffice. That ain’t how she rolls. *sigh*

So we got going up there as soon as we got a call from Mither saying, the weather was supposed to be dreadful and a ton of snow was due to fall. A TON.

OK, all my friends up north, I know what you’re thinking, how much could it possibly snow down here in The South?  I am telling you, it was A TON.

It started snowing on us as we were driving up there around three hours from destination. Huge flakes coming down hard.  This continued the entire way there and by the time we got there, (six and a half hour drive made into a ten hour drive), the snow was about 14″ deep. (Or up to Lisa’s waist knees.)

We did great. Went the whole way with no problems. When we got to the place that we usually turn off of the interstate and take a scenic, less traffic-y, route, we pulled over and discussed the best way. It was a unanimous decision to stay on interstate 45 until we got dumped off on highway 287, instead of going remote roads. Sooooo glad we did. Besides, Lisa’s GPS just doesn’t understand back roads as a way to get anywhere. That bitch told us we were going the wrong way no matter what we told her. She eventually got attitude, too.  Threatening to “pull over” worked with my kids. Not her.

Mither and Pop live on a private road along with a handful of other people and there is a BIG space between houses. Acres, in fact. Once we turned off the county road onto the private road we were a tad scared. There appeared to be one set of tracks plowing through the drifts and the road was completely indistinguishable except for these tracks. So we followed them.

I should point out here that Lisa has a nifty new Honda CRV with all kinds of cool gadgetry. We were still figuring some of them out. As soon as we got into the snow a warning signal appeared on her dashboard. This worried us and as she drove slowly, but steadily down the looooong drive/private road. So I am leaning over looking at the dashboard while she is approaching the intersection where the sign post says “Wilde”, and points off to the left of the sign and “Murphree” and points to the right. She wasn’t real sure she remembered which way to go and started asking me, “Right or left?! Right or left!?”.  I was looking at the dash and just said, “Straight.”. She turned right and was trying to follow the tracks when my head popped up and said, “STRAIGHT! STRAIGHT! STRAAAAAAAAIGHT!.

The warning sign on the dash turned out to be a thing that pops up when you are hydroplaning and are too stupid to realize it. Well our wheels were spinning all over the place.

Did I mention we were white knuckling it at this point? Tension was running high.  She swore there was no “straight” and somehow this warranted a hard right. Whatever. We were in the tracks of something. One pitiful little narrow set of them.  I am pretty sure her car didn’t have the ground clearance to clear the snow piled up in the middle so we were giving that a flat top cut.  I told her not to stop, no matter what, but not to go to fast either. We followed the tracks fairly successfully to the first house on the right where I, for some strange reason, pictured us driving up and turning around in a magically cleared off driveway.

Yeah, right.

Anyway, at the turn into the driveway we slid sideways off the tracks and we continued to go for as far as we could while navigating for all we’re worth back towards the elusive tracks.

There may have been some screaming, cussing and hair pulling, (each others). We will never say for sure.

So when we ceased to move there was a quick reversal and we plowed backwards for all we were worth. The problem was we didn’t turn and ended up in what turned out to be a ditch. I feel like I need to point out right now that there was no ditch when the snow was all over it.

But, sadly, then there was.

We sat there for a good minute and a half, mostly just looking at each other with saucer sized eyes. Then of course, as things go without fail in rural Texas, a pickup pulled up behind us and Bryan, one of my parents neighbors got out and came up to the window and said, “So…. whatchadoin’ Krissa?”

I, (quite valiantly), fought back a deep blush and said, “Oooooh, nuttin.” At this point, I believe Bryan and Lisa were introduced and he said he would haul us out.

I think I mentioned this is rural Texas, so there was no shock or amazement when he reached right inside the back of his pickup and with one hand pulled out a log chain while the other hand dove into a mound of snow that had collected back there and retrieved a fresh beer.

Soon we were hooked up and in neutral. He was hauling and spinning and fishtailing back and forth, yet the four wheel drive he was in couldn’t yank us out of the culvert we had dropped off of.

You should have seen Lisa’s and my eyes about then.

This all took maybe four minutes. Then another set of lights drove up behind us and Jeff Murphree and his son, Bradly, climbed out and trudged through the snow looking for all the world like they had nothing better to do. They were still in their firemen gear from work.

Oh, did I mention that Bryan Massey is an EMT? Yup, he was off work that day and well into a case, 12 pack, six pack of beer.

However, I knew we could not be in better hands.

About that time, Dalane Bible, not just a neighbor, but a friend of mine from high school, showed up.  Lisa and I looked at each other and she said, “Shit… they’re all gonna start peeing on the tires about now…  She had already abandoned the drivers seat, saying something to the effect of, “I’m not driving. You guys know what you’re doing. No, really, I’m not driving!” So Dalane hopped in the front and threw it into drive as Bryan commenced to yank our chain. Heh.

Did I mention the amount of testosterone in the air was palpable?You could have cut it with a knife.

So Dalane  drove while Bryan pulled and we made it neatly into our driveway.  Eventually.  It was a MESS. Snow stacked up everywhere.  Later, before we left to go home we whipped up a batch of banana nut bread muffins and my family’s world famous Oatmeal Butterscotch Cookies, and delivered them to all the houses in the tiny community where our heroes live.

That was the best kind of adventure. Best friends, mishap, heroes, saviors, fun, fun, fun.

We had a wonderful time visiting Mither and Pop from Thursday through Monday. Mither was released from the hospital on Saturday and we collected her without too much trouble in Pop’s pickup.  When we got home we did our best to take care of everything around there while we were available. Pop said he wanted to hire us to just stay and, “be full time”. Unfortunately Lisa had a doctor’s appointment the next day that she was determined to keep and I had to get home to take over the upkeep of Henrietta.

I will tell you what happened with her while I was gone on our next close encounter. Promise!

Here are some pics of how beautiful it was while we were there.

Above is the county road that led to my parents road/driveway.

Their back yard.

The koi pond from the window. Wonder what makes them want to even live in this kind of weather? I would just DIE if I was wet AND cold. Not to mention have a frozen ceiling.

The tank, where half of it was frozen. There were ducks down there on the half that wasn’t, but I never did get a picture of them.

Baby doing a poop. Once she figured out there was n0 other way to do one than put her butt down in it, she was willing to go. Though I really don’t think she was happy about it. I guess I can understand her feelings…

Until next time! Free toes, everybody!

Yes, I really left you with a picture of Baby pooping. This is the kind of documentation you have grown to expect at HalfAsstic.

Admit it.

My friend, Red, over at In The Wheel, had a brilliant idea. I cannot take any credit for this idea except to say that my friends are terribly creative and brilliant. Why, yes! Yes, you are! And you too! Oh, and you, and you and you! ALL OF YOU ARE!

OK, enough kissing ass and on to the brilliant idea Red had.

In a comment on the last post she said, “… maybe Henrietta should start a newspaper – the Henrietta Inquirer.”

This is an obvious oversight on my part as we could be rich by now and in paper print if the Hollywood press had found out about her back at the beginning of her wild story telling.  Well, or any press at all. Particularly the raunchy kind.

Can you imagine the ruckus  in her little mind as we sat here Superbowl Sunday, watching the game, groaning and shrieking, yelling and high fiving? She sat alone in her room watching some crime drama that she just can’t get enough of. (Cause, I mean what else is a paranoid little old lady going to want to watch? Certainly not sitcoms or anything else reasonable.) I had invited her in to watch the game with us, but she was fast to point out that she wanted nothing to do with it.

Then. Somewhere around the third quarter, she is spotted rolling down the hall like stormtroopers. She, effectively, bursts into the living room and snaps her head around in all directions.  “Why is it dark in here?! Turn that light on!”

The overhead light was off and I switched on a lamp beside me.  “What?” I was clearly a bit pissed. She ignored me completely and looked at John.

“Is he here?”

John and I don’t even pretend we don’t know who she’s talking about anymore.  “Gilbert is outside, mother, he’s checking on the steaks.

Damn, we ate late…

She doesn’t understand what he’s said, just as she doesn’t understand most of what anyone says when she’s got her dander up.

“John, you better not be letting him put any drugs into you!”

And, really, I think this is the most amazing thing about the whole affair. John, her perfect child that could never do any wrong in her eyes, and has NEVER IN HIS LIFE, (OK, he’s admitted to smoking a little pot in high school), DONE ANY DRUGS.  Not to mention he is battling CONGESTIVE HEART FAILURE!  She is convinced that he is getting illegal drugs from Gilbert who is clean as a whistle and has never been in any trouble like that in his life.

I can honestly say that we have stopped trying to talk her out of her misconceptions of Gilbert or anything that she comes up with that is crazy. She just gets kinda waved off. Heh. Which pisses HER off.

She was last seen, that night during the game, being quickly propelled down the hall to her room. With me doing the propelling.

Boundaries.  I would first like to describe, (so there can be absolutely no misunderstanding),  exactly where Henrietta’s lie.

They are completely and utterly nonexistent. People, I have searched. They are not there. I have reason to believe they never were. Kind of like a quirky birth defect that it’s OK to laugh at, because, damn, there is nothing else to do when you have been made that uncomfortable.

Today was just the latest on her arm long rap sheet of offenses.

Keelan’s friend, we’ll call her Marie to protect the innocent, came home from college for the day and was over at the house to see Keelan. When she walked through the living room Henrietta  saw her and they exchanged hello’s and the customary, “I haven’t seen you in so long”, and “It’s so good to see you again…”, and “How’s college?”

This is all sounding so civilized and like she knows how to comport herself, right?

I started feeling uncomfortable and was slowly realizing what was coming when she said, “Marie, I remember the last time you were here you had lost so much weight!”.

Ohshit, ohshit ohshit…

Then, under her breath a little but unmistakable to everyone in the room, “But, I see you’re gaining it all back.”.

Damn. The poor girl had almost made it to the stairs, too.

Every time one of her nieces is down from New York to visit she makes a comment about her weight.  Every. Single. Time. Only she is, only slightly, a little less affronting with her. The lady is extremely overweight and I would guess you could say “morbidly obese”.  Henrietta asks her if she’s trying to diet on each visit.

She comes from New York.  A milliondy-thousand miles away for this.

Yes, we’ve got such genteel, charming, southern breeding down here. And then there’s Henrietta.

Oh! Wait a minute! I was about to sign off when another unforgettable moment sprung to mind. Several years ago, when H was on hospice, her nurse  was a dear lady in her 60’s that we all became very fond of. She still comes over to visit from time to time and I run out to have lunch with her here and again.

Of course Henrietta got to know her life’s story by asking one obtrusive question after the other back when she first started coming to pay professional visits to her. She was very close to death at that point, yet not so close that she couldn’t be nosy. I am fairly certain there is no such place.

After knowing her for a few weeks and ascertaining that she was 63 and had never been married, she popped up and asked her if she was a virgin.  I almost fell over. To her credit, Connie, the nurse, snapped back, “Well, sure!” and gave her something to think about.

You know, over the years, even with Connie and I referring to her girlfriend that lives with her and everything, she still doesn’t get it that Connie’s gay.

I bet I could blow her mind with that.

Hello. I am sitting here eating a bagel. It’s one of those that’s called an “everything bagel”. It is littered with all this stuff on top such as sesame seeds and other things that are unidentifiable yet, really good. I have a block of cream cheese in the fridge, but it’s not in a tub and would take a while to get soft enough to spread, so I have just opted for butter. I think I made the right move.  I could ask for a vote on this but, really? The bagel will be long gone and I probably won’t care one way or the other about the poll outcome. I mean except for YOUR opinion. Oh, and YOU!

Anyhow, I thought I would fill you people in on what’s going on with Pop and his possible case of Alzheimer’s. I wrote about it some time ago and really, I am too busy typing and eating a bagel to go find the post and link up.  (Hu, I knew all that bagel blather would be useful somehow…)

So when last I wrote about it Pop was in the beginning stages of some sort of dementia problem. The thinking was possibly Alzheimer’s but, there were no guarantees since, as it was explained to Mither, Alzheimer’s is really only 100% diagnosable by autopsy.  The doctors are saying now that they think he has vascular dementia.  This is a disease that progresses just like Alzheimer’s and they are both treated the same way, (with very little effect).

So time is creeping forward, (unless you have a baby or toddler), and Pop has gotten progressively worse. His biggest problem has been his change in personality. Or, I guess I should say everyone else’s problem. He flies into rages that are truly terrifying at times and always at Mither. Or me, when I was there, but nothing like the way he is to Mither.

He scared her so badly the other day that she just sat and didn’t say a word while he ranted and even used the “f” word at her.

Now take a minute and realize that they have been married FOR-EVAH, and she has never heard that word from his lips. He is 73 and from the deep south. Gentlemen just don’t talk like that in front of women. Go ahead and ask him. I dare ya.

The reason she didn’t respond to anything he was saying was that she was afraid he was going to go and get one of the many, many guns in the house and shoot her in his rage. I am not dramatizing here. Seriously. For the really’s.

So, when Kessa and Gilbert went to visit them Mither took those two aside and explained what they had to do. In order not to make a scene with Pop, they were to get their happy asses down to his gun range and shoot up every. single. round. of ammo in the house.

That is one huge job. Pop, has a lifetime’s collection of guns that were handed down to him, bought by him, used in Vietnam by him, given to him, etc. Many, many different kinds and shapes and sizes. (ALL PERFECTLY LEGAL, THOUGH. I mean we DO live in Texas.) What this meant is that there were dozens and dozens of boxes of ammunition in every caliber you can think of. OK, almost.

Those two spent hours trying to shoot up everything when he would be gone for one thing or another. Gilbert had a huge bruise on his shoulder and his wrist was sore. Kes didn’t shoot that diligently, but was tired of it all as well.

They never did finish. They brought home a ton of ammo that I sat in the floor and sorted by caliber and entered into evidence bags put in zip lock bags.

And then there was the guns they found that Mither had them take with them.  A loaded shotgun and 9mm Luger in his pickup. This is not like the Pop I knew from my childhood. It is way overkill. Plus the gun in the top of the closet that had to go. Loaded as well.

He still hasn’t discovered the missing ammo or guns yet. Mither says that when he does she is just going to explain to him how frightened she was when he was raging at her. I really don’t think he will remember doing it though, simply because he would have apologized to her for it later if he knew.

Anyway, my house could be an arsenal, now. I have been thinking about trying to earn extra cash doing something… wonder about being a “hired gun”…?  How would I work that out with H’s poopy diapers? I could take her with me as my pithy sidekick! Only she has never had a pithy word fall out of her mouth… Hummmm. I’m going to have to think on it.

I have identified some of those other seeds on the yummy bagel!  Poppy and rye! Very good bagel. Think I’ll go have another.