Archive for the ‘ Oh crap! ’ Category

Well, people this just sucks.  No.  Not the poop of yesterday.  It is still here today and has happened twice so far.  H clearly has a stomach bug of some sort.  Bless her heart, no one else in the family has had one but, being so old she is more susceptible to catching things, I guess.

But that is not what I was talking about sucking.  No.  There is a thief amongst us.  It could be your neighbor, friend or YOU.  Well, OK, so maybe none of that is even remotely close to likely.  STILL!

Yesterday when I was in here, in the boudoir, hacking out carefully constructing the poop post for yesterday, Kes came in and told me that the next day, (today), she was going to go up to U of H and purchase a text book that she has to have for school.  Those dirty bastards are requiring her to buy a $250.00 book with some sort of electronic gizmo that has to go with it, that you can only get at UH. Her dad and I had discussed it and we were going to help her with that book so I gave her a little stash of cash that had been lying on the desk for a few days waiting to go to the bank.  It was $190.00 even.  A hundred bill on the outside, four $20.00’s and a $10.00 on the inside.  She said no, she would pay for it, she knew we were having a hard enough time with bills and why not spend the money she has been saving for her education now while we are strapped, blah, blah, blah.  She was being very sweet and understanding and trying to pick up some responsibility.  But I insisted and pushed it on her and she took it eventually and went her way.

Today she came and found me and asked me if I had taken money out of my purse.  I said,…. no?  And she raced away looking for her sister.  She came back in a bit of a panic and said that she doesn’t know what happened to the $100.00 dollar bill in my purse.  I must have looked a bit blank and told her I don’t have a $100 in my purse.  She explained that yesterday when she left my room she just walked straight in and put the $190.00 in my purse in my little coin purse thing where I keep my cash and cards and zipped it up and dropped back in the middle section where I always keep it.

Today she was looking for change for a $100 dollar bill of hers and remembered the money in my purse she had put there last night.  Nobody knew about it but her at this point. So she looked in there to see if she could scare up another $10.00 to make an even 100 out of the smaller bills and the $100. bill was missing from the outside of the folded cash.  She called her dad at work and asked him if he had gotten it out of my purse this morning and he said, no, he knew nothing about it.

Oh crap.

There was a complete scouring of the area and searching on hands and knees and looking so far deep down into my purse I found traces of Jimmy Hoffa.  Every single item came out and was examined closely to see if it had ever even tried to look like a $100.

Next she went and looked for her sister and was frantically asking about the missing money.

Keelan was clueless as well and responded with something like, “Money?  In Mom’s purse? No, I didn’t even know Mom had money in her purse…”  Neither one one of them have ever even thought of taking money from us without asking and so that wasn’t really a valid way to go, but Kes was trying to exhaust all avenues because the money had to be somewhere.

About this time we started backtracking who all had been here between last night and this afternoon.  I mean it’s the only place left to “look” cause, people we have seen things in this house now that make YOUR dustbunnies look like pansy assed wimps.

The small group of friends Keelan had come over with her just popped their heads in to say hello over from the foyer.  They never even came through the living room and went to the other side of the wet bar, where I stash my purse so it’s easy to grab on the way out the back door.

HOWEVER, this is Friday and the Caregiver Provider Aide was here from 11:00am to 2:00pm.  About noon I went in and ran a nice hot bath for myself like I always do when she comes and John is not able to be off work.  So she knew I was in the bath and my purse is there sitting on the wet bar right by the door where she goes to put the dirty linens in with the laundry.  H is turned in her chair with her back to that general area and there is no one else in the house.

My first thought was why would she wait and do this when I am home with them instead of when I am gone with John when he is off?  And then I heard that little intelligent voice I rarely hear from say,  “Because my purse is gone with me then.”  And the dumb ass in me replied, “Oh.”

So now, we are starving to death and don’t have the money required to pay attention, we are trying to figure out what to do next.  I consult with my dear Mither and Pop and then, of course, Lisa is called into the loop.  Kessa’s  boyfriend suggested we get a camera and set her up and record it.  I feel it would cost much more than the lost $100. to buy the equipment for that and she is here for three hours, so it would have to be a motion sensor kind that would come on when she walks in front of it.  I guess?

Well, I was telling Lisa about this and she said that they have a camera that does that.

You could have knocked me over with a feather.  I asked, Why? And she said that they put them up on deer trails and what not in Colorado on their vacation property and see all kinds of wildlife.

Whatever.  How cool is this?  I swear if I catch her, (and I will cause I am stealthy like that), I will show you guys the video footage.

After I get finished beating her to death with H’s bedpan.

It is raining shit up in here!

This morning long before H was up the nurse called and said she was bringing by some supplies for me and doing a “supervisory visit”.  Well, this is all new to me.  I told her that the other nurse was just out here day before yesterday and they only come about once a month, unless there is something wrong and I call them.  She was surprised and said she was just supposed to bring by some supplies anyway.  I couldn’t imagine what, but told her to come on along.

She showed up in a few minutes and went on in to wake up and see H.  I went about my business and saw no reason to go in as there was no need for me to stand and scream what the nurse was saying at H because the nurse is too lazy to raise her voice and do it herself interpretation.  Sometimes Henrietta is having a particular complaint that she wants to address and so I go in and relay the answers back to her, but not today.  Not that I knew of.

She stayed back there talking to her, taking her vitals and getting information about the frequency, size, shape, color, smell and over all IQ of her stools.  I know this because the neighbors at the end of the street could hear her screaming the questions.  When every last bit of info about the poo, (classified and otherwise), was gathered.  She emerged victorious and held out two plastic bags to me proudly saying, “Here, I brought you supplies.”

Does it make me a bad person that my gut instinct, first response was, “You got booze in there?”

I took the bags and judged by weight and size of the bulges that there were several catheters, a box of latex gloves, and about 3 sterile catheter kits.

The latex gloves were a bit of a surprise and I am guessing the nice lady in the office, Paula had included them for me as that’s not part of the deal.  We are expected to buy our own gloves and I go through a shitload of them.  Hahaha!  Did you see what I did there?  I use the gloves to change shitty diapers and empty bedpans and I said I go through a shitload of them!  Hahahaha!  OK, maybe the shit jokes are a bit dense around here, but so is the shit.  (I bet that nurse didn’t even ask about density….)

Then the nurse leaves and almost immediately Henrietta rings the bell.  I go to see what’s up and am a bit surprised she rang and I hadn’t had time to get her breakfast in to her yet.

“Krissa, I hate to tell you this, but I have a dirty diaper.  That stuff just came out all of the sudden!”

It’s always called “that stuff”.  She has never referred to the poo as anything other than “stuff” once it has happened.

I must admit it helps to think of it this way…

So I assure her that it’s all OK and we set about the business of cleaning it up.  I see fairly soon that the reason she was so unaware of the situation is that it’s very loose.  (Am I getting too graphic, yet?  Cause I don’t mean to be, but really… YOU weren’t here cleaning this old lady’s butt up and changing gloves and swiping her with the required lotion.  SO DON’T JUDGE.)

We got done with that and I brought her the first course.  Oatmeal with a few cut up prunes and a dose of Miralax.

Now I know what you’re thinking.  Why would Krissa give H the Miralax if she just had a U. P. that was loose?

Well, my pretties, it’s like this.  It doesn’t matter what I do.  I’m screwed.

I have tried cutting off the fiber and shit-making producers as soon as there is any kind of disturbance in the digestive-go-about before.  It is all for not.  There would be an Abrupt Poop Stoppage and massive discomfort.

So we don’t do that anymore.  I mean the APS wouldn’t happen until the next day, but it WOULD happen.

Aaaaanywaaaay, I got her all cleaned and lotioned up and she has the rest of her breakfast.  An egg, breakfast sausage and an oven roll with a bit of jelly.   Of course, the U.P. has set her off her game and she prefers to stay in bed for the rest of the day.


A few hours later she rings for me to come in there and she has had another poopy diaper.

Well, shit.  I am just elbow deep in it today.

The day progresses and eventually I bring her in her supper.  (She never eats lunch and considering she doesn’t get up until noon, I can pretty much see why.

Remember she is being sickly today and playing it up big time.  No other complaints other than she is poopy.  Literally.  She wonders aloud numerous times what is the matter with the poops and why “all that stuff just keeps coming out…”.  I clearly have no new answers and have told her repeatedly that it’s OK.  Nothing to worry about.  Same ol’ same ol’…

Well, tonight I took her in the loaded toothbrush, fresh water, her two pills and a napkin and spit bowl.  She told me that when she was coughing during her soup she may have messed up her diaper.

So I peel it all back and there it is.  POOP.  From The Endless Font of Poopage.  AGAIN.

So I changed her again.  And ran like hell.

I want the hell out of here people!  I need a makeover!  WITH NO POOP!  Or even mudpacks, cause I don’t even think I like chocolate anymore due to the color and texture…..



I casually, even innocently, strolled to the cabinet that holds the precious black ground up goodness that gets me through the day.  I reached for the container and put it down on the counter, opened it up and…


This is what I found.  EMPTY. (Note: that word is in italic, bold, caps AND underlined. That is how it sounded in my little caffeine starved head.)

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!  I called John immediately and he dropped the phone cause I was still in screaming mode assured me calmly that he would bring home coffee when he was off work.

It was a very trying day.  I cried when I broke my fingernail and in hindsight that seems a tad dramatic, but at the time, there REALLY WAS NOTHING ELSE TO DO.  My whole day was in capitol letters. The strange little dogs hid from me the whole time.  I choose to think that my not having coffee was…depressing them and they just wanted to hide from… the whole world.  Yeah.  That’s it.

There were headache pills and Henrietta was a pill AND a headache.  I had tea with her and it always does help, but I still needed my coffee!

For once, John’s ridiculously long work day was longer for me than him.  YES IT WAS, JOHN!  Finally he came home and “delivered the goods”.  No.  That is not a sexy euphemism.  He brought the coffee and he KNEW that there was no coming home without it.  As a matter of fact he had to show me the bag of perfectly ground beans before he was allowed through the door.  I snatched the bag and ran to see my best friend the coffee maker.  With trembling hands, (and a silent prayer that John would quit trying to kiss me hello- Don’t make that face! He was getting in my way!), I carefully scooped the grounds right out of the bag into the precious magic machine.  Turned on the water right next to the maker of miracles and stretched out the faucet hose to fill it with water.  With a quivering finger I pushed the “ON” button.  Tears of joy escaped down my face as the tortured day came to an end and the black liquid gold ran into the pot.  Soon I was pouring a cup and blowing frantically/burning my tongue because I couldn’t wait.  I didn’t care.  The best reason to burn my tongue ever.

Today?  Got up, made coffee, ran the dishwasher, read the paper…  You know, same ol’, same ol’…

Free toes, everybody!

From Lisa to Willie

(Started last Tuesday…)

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

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

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

I will give full disclosure when I get back.

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ho Ho Humm

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

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

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

World’s Greatest Fruitcake

1c water

1c sugar

4 large eggs

2 c dried fruit

1 tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. salt

1c brown sugar

Lemon juice


1 bottle of whiskey

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

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

Repeat process.

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

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

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

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

Merry Christmas, everybody!