Archive for the ‘ Apocalypse ’ Category

First off, I actually did repaint both bathrooms. OK, right that only took a couple of days and Mither was down here helping. BUT, both bathrooms were in such disrepair I had to house a lot of peace corps people in order to carry out the make over. Yeah. That’ll be a good deal of my excuse right there. Cause I couldn’t just kick them out as soon as they painted my bathrooms! I mean what kind of jerk would do that? They were going to deploy to…. Bosnia in a week, so I let all of them hang here until time to leave.

How many? Oh.

Uuuuh, lets say 30. Yeah, that sounds good.

Are you having a hard time swallowing this?

What I need here is a touch of evidence. Here are some bathroom pics!

Behold, BEFORE! Go ahead, click on it and make it BIG!

Master bathroom 80's wallpaper BEFORE the paint job. NOW you see why The Peace Corps was needed.


Now stop that! I know you can control your gag reflex better than that! You’re being a sissy! Only a few of those Peace Corps folks tossed their cookies. And there were 45 of them staying here, remember!

Allrightythen, moving right along. I’m guessing you are  now wanting some eye relief. Let’s try showing some improvement, but not quite done.

This is the loverly Kessa. She was a tad upset with me cause she didn't have any make up on. I know... I can be decked out to the nines and sporting a tiara and not come close to looking like that.

SEE! Isn’t it a beautiful shade of blue/teal or whatever it is? Talk about “lighten and brighten”! That’s what we did!

Here's the mess aaaaall over the counter. There is so much mess you probably can't even see the Peace Corps workers in there doing their thing.

Here's Mither bent over painting the wall behind the counter. I realize you can't see that much of her, (go with me, here), but she's peeking out between that bucket of joint compound and blue plastic cup of paint.

Here's a close up of my new shower curtain. I got it for six bucks at a garage sale and so the bathroom color was picked around it. SCORE!

This is a really great shot except that the paint is so totally NOT that color. I really did have a hard time getting pics that represent the shade of blue/aqua/turquoise/greenishblue...

See what I mean? The paint in the potty room is the exact same as the paint in the rest of the bathroom. However, I can point out here that the far wall in the potty room does look more like the actual color. I don't know why it makes it such a baby blue in the foreground.


Here we are, still needing bath mats down and towels, but doesn’t it look fresh? You have no idea how much brighter it is in there!

Doesn't this long piece of ribbon look pretty with my shower curtain? I wish I could figure out something to do with it in here.

It's hard to stand where I can get a good shot. Here is a look at the mirrored side, so you can see the reflection of the other.

Now, this has been so long and I have taken so much time to do it that the girls bathroom, upstairs, is going to have to be another post… I have to go… I am a volunteer firefighter and there is a raging skyscraper fire in downtown Houston that I am going to be airlifted to. Yeah. That’s it.


It’s been a year of almost pure shit.  I am sick and tired of it and want it over with. It can not come soon enough. And, I know it’s not supposed to make a difference what year it says it is on the calendar. There is absolutely no reason to think that having the year change from aught nine to ten will make any difference in our day to day continuance. I mean why should it. Logically, it won’t make any difference at all.

And yet, it has to.

I know that it was very close to the beginning of this year when things started spiraling downhill. John’s job got a ton more stressful. We had Marital Problems. His health issues. Issues that weren’t even acknowledged to us by his then general practitioner, and we ended up finding out with his stint in the hospital for the better part of October. Yes, October in particular, can bite my ass.

Moving right along…..

Henrietta has decided that Kessa’s boyfriend is the devil. No. Really. She selected him from all the other contenders of people that she see’s day to day sometime in October when John was in the hospital.

It all began with her telling my SIL, who was here taking care of her while I was there with John, that The Boyfriend was a shifty character who was just trying to sleep with Kessa.

Upon John’s and my return she announced to us that my SIL was unable to sleep while she was here one night because The Boyfriend was going in and out the front door all night and he was trying to sleep with Kessa.

Of course the SIL had already alerted us to this latest rant and we were kind of expecting, well, something like this.

I came *this* close to telling her something like, “Henrietta, I know it’s been a long time since you “slept” with anyone, but it’s not accomplished by going in and out the front door of the house.

I just explained to her that SIL said no such thing and we had talked to her already and she must have misunderstood her.

Soon afterward, she indicated her annoyance with The Boyfriend in more ways to me.  Saying little muttered things under her breath about him being lazy, shiftless and no good. Rolling her eyes at the mention of his name. Said things like, “Oh, you know how that boy is…”

“No, how is he, Henrietta?”

Exasperated sigh, “Krissa, you know how he is!”

“NO! Truly! I do not! What have you got against him?! You’ve been badmouthing him for days and he has done absolutely nothing to deserve it! I stopped just short of telling her that he is just the latest in a long line of victims she has plucked out of thin air to harp on, (including me), and she is just never happy content if she’s not being hateful about someone.

At this point she stopped and told me that while John was in the hospital The Boyfriend threw the telephone at Kessa.


Oh, yes. She was certain of it.  He was standing at the top of the stairs and Kes was standing on the landing and she told him she didn’t want to talk on the phone and she’d call the person back and he THREW the phone at her!

I assured her that this did not transpire and took the story in and was telling John what she said when Kes came home and caught the tail end of it and was amazed that there actually was a tiny grain of truth to another one of her wild tales.

Old Blue was for sale during all this time and we had an ad on Craig’s List.


We were getting calls for it and Kes and Keelan were taking numbers for me to return from the hospital or where ever. Hence, she took the phone upstairs with her to watch a movie. She came back down to make popcorn and The Boyfriend appeared at the top of the stairs and hollered at her that there was a call for the pickup. She said tell them my parents will call back and he said they just wanted to ask some basic questions. So she stepped up onto the landing and he pitched the phone down like we have done a thousand times, except Kes is the worst catcher in the history of people with hands and practically never does anything but break the fall for the phone. (Stairs are carpeted, whew!)

So, as per normal procedure, she drops the phone and then picked it up and talked on it and hung up and that was the end of it.  OR WAS IT?

God, please, PLEASE give Henrietta a more loving, tolerant, accepting soul and fill her with the understanding that there is no one in this house that is pure evil and actually the only evil she has to worry about is what she brings out in me when she gets all bitchy like this… Actually, scratch all that.

God, PLEASE give me a more loving, tolerant, accepting soul…


Today started out well enough.  I pretty much slept in as long as I wanted.  Was awoken by a loving husband.  (In a loving way.)  Got up and did what had to be done for H., (just some breakfast and running a bit.  Laundry, dishes, etc.).  Relaxed with John while I waited on the inevitable ring of the bell indicating time for the bedpan and ubiquitous poop.  Did that, dressed her, hauled her into the wheelchair and brushed her hair.  John was running errands all over the place.

I sat down at the laptop.  Innocently.  Not knowing what was to come.  I checked emails, and did some reading on some blogs.  Was just sitting there enjoying myself and the little deal popped up asking me if I wanted to UPDATE my:


iTunes and Quicktime

I unchecked the Safari one and hit OK, or update, or go ahead, or knock yourself out, or whatever it said to continue.

It did.

It promptly told me that my hard drive had crashed and burned.   I wanted to cry.

Fair warning:

If anyone comments or emails me saying I should back everything up I will seek you out and assassinate you!  I KNOW!

The good news?  OK, the hard drive we get to replace the one it came with will be better and faster than the one it came with.

Sorry, that’s about all I could come up with at the last minute.

I am sitting at the desk on the, ahem, other computer.  It is a Vista piece o’ crap and while I really, REALLY want a Mac next, I am thinking it’s not in the budget.

So, shit.  Here I sit.  Wanting to spit?  No, no. NO.  Do not get me started!

I will be running to Fry’s later this evening and doing some pooter repairs when I get back home.  I just wanted everyone to know this was typed on a different keyboard and that’s why it looks different. 😉  heh

Karma got me this morning, though.

It’s midnight on Monday.  Or, actually, I guess I should say Tuesday morning.

I am sure everyone out there realizes that Sunday, May 10 was Mother’s Day.  Well, Saturday, May 9 was my birthday.  I am now 46 years old people.

Stop looking so smug.  I know I’m older than you.

So this is what happens at chez Lopez.  I am waited on hand and foot for my birthday, showered with gifts and treated like a queen.  Taken out to eat and pampered.  Hauled in the loot like you wouldn’t believe.  My family rocks.

THEN! The next day, Mother’s Day, a repeat performance.  For two days I only had to get H on and off the bedpan and diapered.   The SIL even came and stayed with her so we could all go out and eat together.  We didn’t get back until after 10:30pm and Kes got here a few minutes before John and I did.  John and I walked in the door and there was Henrietta sitting in her wheelchair in the living room.

The SIL left as soon as Kes walked in the door ahead of us by maybe three or four minutes.

SHE DIDN’T EVEN PUT HER IN BED!  We fed her before we left, (long before), and SIL just plopped her happy ass down and watched TV and didn’t even put her in bed or give her her pills or change her into a nightgown or change her nappy or anything.  I was pissed.  Not to mention tired after being pampered all day and then overstuffing myself on overpriced Italian food.  That can wear a girl out.

Now.  Down to the really, really serious matter at hand here.  I am looking for someone to sponsor me in a program for an addiction I have acquired this past weekend.  This sponsor wouldn’t need to have the exact same problem as me…  Perhaps someone out there started out just occasionally using, ooooh, I dunno, M&M’s.  Or, has been seen in line at Baskin Robbins a few too many times.

I’m not judging.  But when you find that you have fallen and fallen hard into a life where you have become totally dependent on bon bons to get you through your day, THEN you can judge me.

My bon bon addiction combined with my lack of motivation to move back into my regular life of being taken for granted, used and abused, coupled with the realization that I was making a HAUL on gifts there for a couple of days and like any toddler, DON’T WANT IT TO END, just HAS to be the reason I woke up today with nausea and actually REGURGITATED.  This? is monumental.  I cannot remember the last time I threw up.  I have a cast iron stomach and a similar constitution.  My family looked at me like I might be gonna die.  I must say this was disheartening.  I told them all where to go and crawled back in bed.  I got up long enough to feed H breakfast and she very sweetly insisted on staying in bed today so I wouldn’t have to breathe in her face haul her in and out of the wheelchair and get her dressed and all that shit.

So today, I blew “it” all off again.  Life in general.  No laundry got done.  I didn’t clean the kitchen, I didn’t cook supper.  It was all magically done by the little elves that run around here on magical days like May 9th and Mother’s Day and freaky puke days. Well, the laundry didn’t get done but if I have calculated correctly, at least three of us run out of underwear tomorrow.  (huh…better not be me…)

Next year Mother’s Day and my birthday are one and the same.  This happens every seven years or so.  Not THAT big a deal.  And I know what you’re thinking.  No.  I absolutely do not get shortchanged on gifts on these occasions.  I don’t think I would stand for that if it was ever attempted.  My loves know this.

I have been watching Craig Ferguson as I, er, composed this.  It is now 12:59 and I am about to throw it out to the blogosphere and see if it doesn’t get thrown back in my face.  Regurgitated, if you will.

Easter update.

Remember my plans to take it easy and chill out on Easter Sunday?  Well, I was well into doing that and just hanging out in my nightgown cause, hey, I could.  And John won’t be off work until late.  Henrietta plans on staying in bed and watching a DVD of The Stations of The Cross.  So I am on my hands and knees in my raggedy nightgown, scrubbing the bathroom floor, (around the toilet, no less) flitting around the house in my finest lingerie when what happens?  The *&^%$#! doorbell rings.  I looked out the window and I don’t recognize the car, can’t see the front porch from where I am and so I walk over and snatch the door open because whoever is showing up on Easter UNANNOUNCED deserves to see me like this and smell the bleach emminating from my hands and knees.  (Plus they need to be appreciative of the fact that there is no pee on the floor in my guest bathroom.)

There, followed by her SIX children is Henrietta’s grand-daughter.  The one that shows up once or twice every few years.

She said, “Sorry, I didn’t call, I lost the number.”

Dude, we are LISTED.

“We’re just going to pay a short visit.”

I was not the least bit apologetic about my appearance and the state of things.  I told her H was on the bed pan, which she was and the smell of poop probably snuck in and visited her as soon as I went in and hauled her off of it.

*Why does spell check say “snuck” is not a word?  It most certainly is… English According to Krissa.  Look it up.*

Of course then I had to dress her and put her in the wheel chair and the whole nine yards.

Those six kids must have completed the circuit of living room, breakfast area, kitchen, dining room, foyer, living room, breakfast area, kitchen, dining room, foyer… etc., a milliondy-two times.


She got here at 3:00.  It is now 3:53.  She is here to see her Mimi, not me.  I am trying to be ensconced in the riffraff room by myself, only “they” keep running in here.

Soon I will scoop out my eyeballs with a spoon.

I can see into my dining room from here and there are children hiding under the table and pulling the tablecloth down to hide themselves.  I have all my bill paying crap all over the table. (Did I mention I wasn’t expecting company?)  An avalanche of paperwork slid off the table and onto the floor.

Kids scattered like cockroaches.

The bathroom door just opened and kids came out.  If there is pee on the floor in there I will hurt someone.

All I was waiting for was H to do the poo thing so I could put in the DVD for her and I could go and take a bath and clean up for John to come home.

It is 4:10 and I just heard her say that they have to get going.

Now?  How ’bout now?  Oh, come on!  Now?

It’s 4:11 now.

I’m not having fun.  Please comment and tell me about your good holiday experience.