Archive for the ‘ just plain weird ’ Category

Plague, schmague.

To all of those of you harassing me to… dammit, post again, fine.  Here!  Happy?!  It’s Friday and no one will even read this until Monday… It’s totally useless.  UNLESS, YOU! YES YOU, THE ONE THAT HAS NEVER COMMENTED!  EVER!  Will kindly leave a comment and say that, in fact, you DID read and now feel that you can go on living until the next untimely installment.

The thing is, lately especially, I’ll have several ideas rolling around in my head, (Yes, rolling.  That’s what things do in my head…), and as soon as I sit down to post, *POOF* It’s gone.  Or at least the ability to write about it in any kind of readable way is.

This shit is so random, I don’t even feel that apologizing for it is the least bit useful.


Keelan missed school last Monday due to puking and diarrhea.  (Dear God, please don’t let her read this.)  Then, on Wednesday she went to school and work then home again where I found her curled up on the couch with a flame red face and 102.5 degree fever.  My first thought was, “Strep throat!”.  I called and made an appointment with her pediatrician for the next day and John took her and brought her home.  He had to cut out of work in the middle of the day to do so.  (Remember, I can’t drive due to a vision blindness problem.)

He called me from the doctor’s office and told me it was just tonsillitis.  OK, this is good.

Keelan walked in the door with her father when they got home, looked at me and said, “Mom, she said it’s just tuberculosis.”

I stared at her for a moment and said, “Tuberculosis?”

“Yeah… well, something like that.”

“You mean tonsillitis?”


Then, later, in the same day, We were discussing her infancy and when she was a newborn.

“Mom, what was the matter with me?”  To which I gave her a puzzled look.  “You know, Mom… I had, gingivitis?”.

I can only say my puzzled look grew more puzzled.  “Do you mean jaundice?”

“Oh yeah!  That’s it!”

For Christmas, I’m getting her a medical dictionary.

Ongoing developments.

On Wednesday, April 29, Henrietta turned 87 years old.  There were festivities as you’d expect from a festive family like this.  I do, in fact have pictures that I would like very much to post, but this stupid thing won’t let me as the file size gizmo has pissed off the maximum load of shit thingy.  Or some such crap.  And it’s not WordPress’s fault this time.  It’s that rat bastard, Vista.

Have I mentioned how I loathe Vista?  I do.  We are getting an Apple sometime in the near future and all I have to do is find a way to finance it….  Hum.  I have children I could sell.  They are 18 and 19 now, but really, if I list them as “slightly used”, won’t that cover my butt?

Anyway, as I was saying before I got all sidetracked, H had a birthday with a beautiful cake I made and Kes iced for me and presents and whatnot.  She had a grand time.  Only her daughter never showed up or called.  So about half way through the day, I’m figuring she may have forgotten and I started trying to call her.  I left messages and never heard back from her.  John did the same from work.

The next day, Thursday, she showed up with the most gawd-awful looking pot of almost completely finished blooming tulips.  Some of them were lying over the side of the pot.    She said she hadn’t called the day before because she was out of minutes on her cell phone and she never gave any idea about why she didn’t come.

She doesn’t own a car, but drives a 14 year old piece of junk Accord that belongs to her boyfriend.  And I DO mean junk.  Rust showing through, no A/C, dings and dents everywhere.  Ugly as sin.  She always parks right in the middle at the end of the sidewalk.  We always make a point not to park there because it is directly across the street from my neighbors driveway.  It’s the elderly couple with the red door that I have posted about before.  They are very sweet and terrific neighbors.  It just makes good sense to not park right where someone has to back out.  You know, the courteous thing to do.

We should have told her not to do it too.  The man that lives there was backing out and hit that piece of junk and dented the front quarter panel.  So he rang the bell and asked me if he could talk to me and I went out and he showed me the dent and said that they were going some place right then and just tell SIL they’d be back in a little while.

So SIL called her boyfriend and told him.

Here’s where I get politically incorrect.

He’s a wet back an illegal alien.

Of course he wanted the insurance info.  **Sigh.**

She stayed here longer than usual visiting with her mother that day so that she could go and talk to my neighbor.  That’s the only good that came out of this.  He gave her his phone number and asked her to call him when she got an estimate.

That was all on Thursday and Friday SIL was calling saying that she’d talked to him and he’s supposed to be bringing a check over.

For $244.00.

To fix body damage on a car.

Yeah,  right.

John was appalled at the whole thing of course and we are both embarrassed.  So when the neighbor came over with the check, he talked to him and apologized.  When the guy left John told me that he’s going to tell his sister that he brought the check but needs a copy of the estimate for his records. He didn’t believe for one minute that $244.00 was going to fix that car either.  And, he and I both know the car will never get fixed.  It will just be an embarrassing reminder every time she comes over here of what happened and how she extorted money from our retired, on a fixed income, neighbors.

She came back on Saturday earlier than she has been here in many, many months, (1:15), and while I was surprised to see her that early, I wasn’t.  My first thought was “OK, at least she’s in time to change her mother’s diaper this time.”.

She stayed 10 to 15 minutes and left.

H promptly rang the bell to be put on the bedpan.

This is my life.

The copy of the estimate she brought looks legit enough.  It’s barely legible, but has the name of the garage stamped on it.   So… whatever!

Me, me, me, meeeeeeeeeeee

Oh. No. That’s not right…. Meme.   That’s what I meme to say. (HA!  That’s what I MEME to say!) I am telling you, you do NOT want to hear me sing.  It’s worse than my bad puns.

Ree, over at Hotfessional tagged me for a meme and, conformist that I am, I must comply!  The rules are:

No running around the pool, one at a time on the diving board, eat all your vegetables before you get dessert, and finally, do your homework before you go outside and play.

Comply, or face the consequences.

Now this is going to be a list of seven things about me and I will be tagging seven of you guys whose blogs I love to read.  Then, like the good little girls and boys you are, YOU will be doing the same.

Yes you will! I can find you, you know.  Ha ha ha!  I jest!  Maybe.

1. I love when my 19 year old daughter actually needs me to help her with a regular life problem that she hasn’t dealt with before.  I went with her to the tire place this morning for her to get a defective tire replaced.  It was warranted by the place and all, but she wanted… backup, I guess.  We had a nice time, which is a weird thing to say about going to a tire store.  Yesterday I showed her how to check the oil in her car, and was mortified that she hadn’t already been shown.

2. I am horrible about starting projects and never finishing them.

3. I absolutely loved being pregnant.

4. But not as much as having a baby.  Well, not having the baby, but having already had the baby… you know.

5. I would give almost anything to have the time and money for John and I to go to visit my brother, sister-in-law and nephew in Italy.

6. I love to cook new dishes and am continually frustrated by being short ONE INGREDIENT.  It’s like Satan is writing the damn recipes and has inventoried my kitchen beforehand.

7. I would give just about anything to hear from some of the people that I can see check in on my blog on a very regular basis and never comment.  Not because I’m a comment whore, yes I am, but because I’m so very curious about who they are.

So there you have it.  That’s about all I can come up with and now the game will continue with me passing this on to:

1. Noe Noe Girl

2. Witchypoo at Psychicgeek

3. Janet at From the Planet of Janet

4. Jean at Working Momma 247

5. Karen at The Rocking Pony

6. Predo at Spartacus wore a skirt!

7. SSG at Confessions of a (Sometimes!) Serendipitous Girl

There it is.  Whoop it out!

We're a strange little group.

The other day, (Easter, to be exact), I was doing laundry and went in my bedroom to hang some things up.  I walked in and was going to my closet when I heard all this commotion in the bathtub.

Pleeeeeeease get me out, Mom!

Pleeeeeeease get me out, Mom!

I don’t know what made her go in there and think that jumping in the tub was the thing to do, but she could NOT get out.  The tub is a bit sunken on the inside and with no rug for traction, she was good and stuck.  Desperate and pitiful whining like you can’t even imagine.  The little fat ass.

Kes, will YOU get me out?!

Kes, will YOU get me out?!

However, this did not prevent me from leaving her there long enough to go get Kessa and let her come in and we both took pictures of her cause that’s the kinds of bee-otches we are.

I just wait... SOMEBODY will get me out!

I just wait... SOMEBODY will get me out!

What on earth do you think she was thinking to hop in there all by herself?  If there had been even a crumb of food, I would have expected it… but no.


Last night overheard in my house:

Squealing and laughter along with some yelling and aggravation. “MOM!  Make Kessa give me back my M&M’s!”

And without missing a beat these words came out of my mouth: “Kes, give your sister back her M&M’s before I spank you.”

And the most surreal part?

It worked.

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.