Archive for the ‘ Apocalypse ’ Category



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!

Well, it’s all over and I am glad that life is going back to semi-normal.  John is back at work and that store is TORE UP.  At least it was when we had to go up there twice yesterday to check on it.

That’s how weird his employer’s are.  This is a huge national chain that, for the most part has all their stores staying open 24/7.  They close at 4:00pm on Thanksgiving day and are closed on Christmas day.

And that’s it.

They apparently don’t remember what it’s like to just close every night like regular folk do and are completely freaked out paranoid at the thought of any of their stores being left uninhabited for an entire day and night.  So all the stores have to have a manager go up there twice during the day of Christmas and walk through the entire thing, checking all the coolers to see if for some bizarre reason they have stopped working and go through all the bathrooms and backrooms and storage closets and walk-in freezers and coolers and behind all the counters of this 88,000 sq. ft. store looking for… I don’t know what.  It’s ridiculous.

Did I mention they’re paranoid?

He’s gotten it all back in shape by now and he’s off tomorrow, so… YEAAA!

Yesterday was a success.  I decided that I was scaling back a lot and not breaking out every single specialty  Kes and I could whip out.  Turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, rolls, pumpkin pie (1), dressing, gravy, and I think that’s it. It was bare minimum.

On Christmas Eve I finally heard from SIL late in the day and I asked her to bring the green vegetables.  She told me that H had asked her to make a roast the day before and she was going to bring that, too.

OK, fine.

She showed up and had a piece of meat that she later admitted having got at some Mexican meat market and she had no idea what cut it was, but it was NOT a roast.  Tough. As. Shoe. Leather.

She also just said, “I didn’t bring the vegetables.”

That was the only thing I asked her for.

We had her, and her “friend” that she didn’t tell me was coming, her 4 grown kids, along with one of the kids boyfriend, (also didn’t know was coming), and her two grandkids.   So an extra 11 people for supper.

It was interesting.

Anyway, things went along fairly well and it was all over almost as soon as it had begun.  The two nieces of John’s that have 5 and 6 kids a piece didn’t call or show, (thank you God), so it could have been much worse and much more crowded.

Last night we were taking bets on how the “roast” was going to affect H’s “delicate digestive system”.  She went with indigestion and saying that “…it was that roast…it was greasy… she should have boiled it longer.”  There was nothing greasy about that dried up hunk of ass meat.  But I won’t be telling Henrietta that.   Some nasty stuff, that. 😉

Ewwwww, GROSS!

Well, here it is.  Sunday.  About twice a month my SIL sees fit to come and visit her mother for an average of about an hour and a half.  NORMALLY she shows up long after the “poop-time-frame”.  Today, however, she miscalculated and appeared before H was off the bedpan.  So, by default, (and CAUSE I SAY SO), the bedpan duty and diapering and dressing of H falls to her.

I was sitting in here doing bloggy stuff and I realized that she was running the water in the tub in the guest bath.

Well, this is odd.

Normally, you just go in and dump the, ahem, contents of the bedpan into the potty and run water in it from the sink and dump again and wipe out whatever… stuck, with a bit of toilet paper.  You also dump the plastic, Folger’s coffee can full of urine from the catheter bag into the potty, fill with water and repeat.  All of this while wearing latex gloves and then following up behind yourself spraying the facet handles and bedpan handles and coffee can handles with spray bleach.  Not to mention the interior of the receptacles.

Well, cuorisity got the better of me when I heard her spraying something over and over and the bathtub running.

Crap, the only thing in there that sprays right now is the spray bleach and last time she used it she ruined the bathmats… somehow, both of them.

So I go in there and she has the toilet brush in one hand and the urine bucket in the other and she is “cleaning” the thing out and dumping the contents into the bathtub.

“Millie!  You don’t do that in the bathtub!”

“Oh, I didn’t dump the pee in there!”  As she sticks the toilet brush under the tap.

I just left.  It really doesn’t matter at this point what I say, cause it all has to be cleaned anyway.  People really do bathe in that tub.

Does anyone want to come and visit me? 😉

Well, something totally unexpected happened to the small town of Dickinson last night.  Now, keep in mind we live about 20 minutes inland from the Gulf of Mexico.  Or, as we call it, the Gulf Coast.  It’s pretty freakin’ tropical here.  OK, it can be unbearably tropical here.  Humidity hovers at 110% all summer and it’s not uncommon for it to never dip to freezing in the winter.

Now.  Keeping that in mind how often would you think we see snow?  Not often.  The freakiest thing I will ever be able to say about snow down here happened four years ago on Christmas Eve.  That’s right.  We had one of those rare snowfalls that only happens about once every 5 to 7 years and it was on Christmas Eve.  It was so beautiful Christmas morning.  My dear Miter and Pop live up a little bit north of Ft. Worth and get snow, usually every year.  Though, not always a lot of it.  They are both from the small town they live in and have never in their lives had a white Christmas.  It was pretty surreal calling them and telling them we were having one.

Last night it snowed again.  We got a good blanket of it and all my vegetation is bum-fuzzled.

Here’s crazy Kes out on the front porch in her nightgown! She doesn’t mind the cold, I guess…

Keelan with a severe case of dandruff… She does not seem to mind, though.

Doofus and Goofus

Unhappy bushes covered with white cold stuff.  They all got themselves pulled up and left in the morning, bitching the whole time.  They never did appreciate me…

This is my BIRD OF PARADISE.  It is so tropical it could (and does) live in Hawaii.  Only not this one.  It was silently screaming, “Aaaaaahhhh!  Get this cold shit off of me!  I am tropical, dammit!  My best friends are azaleas!  Even St. Francis in the bird bath was cussing…  It was bad.  But very pretty!  And I say that’s what counts!

Someone else's poop.

I promised John I wouldn’t post about his… stomach virus issues, so I’m not.

HOWEVER, this does not mean Lisa is safe from my marauding posting.

Years ago, Lisa and I and her daughter Brittany, Kessa  and Keelan were on our way to, (or from… can’t remember) my parents house when they lived in Trinity, Texas.  Kessa and Brittany were both 10 years old and Keelan was 8.  It was a good three hour drive and we were on the north side of Houston…. somewhere.  Not any area we were terribly familiar with.

Lisa and I were chatting away, as usual, while she drove and the girls were doing their own thing in the back seat.  Lisa squirmed a little bit and mentioned that her stomach was feeling bad.  A few minutes later she was moving around in her seat looking pained and she said her stomach was really hurting.  Seconds later she was speculating that she was going to have diarrhea.  Momentarily there was some deep breathing and rapid panting that I swear she had done in the delivery room, combined with extreme butt clenching exercises.  She was writhing in the seat as she drove us faster and faster down the highway and we all searched frantically for a convenient place for her to go potty.

The priceless thing I will NEVER forget was when we were up to about 80 miles an hour and Lisa was bouncing up and down in the drivers seat, I glanced back at the girls in the back.  It had gone deathly quiet back there and three pairs of eye’s had grown saucer sized and were bouncing back and forth from me to Lisa on mildly terrified faces.

I wanted to laugh so hard right then!  I mean I felt SO bad for Lisa and was really a little worried myself that we weren’t going to find a bathroom in time, but you should have seen the looks on those girl’s faces!

We finally spied a Target and zoomed in the parking lot where Lisa leaped out of the car and raced in while I got out and went around to the driver’s side to get us out of the firelane.  We drove over to a parking spot and watched and one of the girls piped up and said, “… ya think she made it?”

In a few minutes she came out with a sack in her hands and headed for the car.

She had purchased a potent anti-diarrheal and a box of Tucks Medicated Wipes after she came out of the bathroom.

There were no more incidences the rest of the way home, but I glanced back several times just to see the difference in the looks on the girls faces from when we were desperatly seeking a bathroom.  I laughed every time I looked at them and the memory of the sheer terror in their eyes still makes me grin.