Thursday, December 29, 2011

November, 2011 in music.

This one says it all.

Further proof that Sethanese is catching

With the New Year fast approaching, I thought I'd share a tidbit of Sethanese, according to Jill. This happened around the 23rd of December.

Jill: "What time are we opening presents on Christmas morning?"
Me: "I think it will be after church."
Jill: "No, I mean Christmas morning, not Christmas Eve." (we open one present on Christmas Eve)
Me: "I am talking about Christmas Eve. Grandma and Grandpa are going to go to church, and I might too, so you guys can sleep in and we can open presents at around noon."
Jill: "Mom, they don't have church on Christmas Day."
Me: "Yes they do, when it's on a Sunday."
Jill: "Christmas is on a Sunday? Whose idea was that?"

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

October, 2011

Yes. I set fire to it and burned it to the ground. Yes.

Oh yeah. My kinda girl.

And finally. FINAL.

Friday, December 23, 2011

August, 2011 in music

In Spanish (translation below):

Don't even think that I'm going to fight for him
or dream that I'm going to fight for him
I'm giving him to you.

Take him far away, he is bad luck
and I don't want him
My greatest revenge will be, will be
that with the passing of the years
you will discover his deception/unfaithfulness
and like a soul in pain
you will live to the end dying of love,
dying of love
while I laugh

Don't even think that I will suffer for him
or dream that I'll cry for him
I'm giving him to you

Take him far away, he is bad luck
and I am no longer going to complain
Well now I'm free
you have liberated me from insincerity

Play with fire
now he's all yours
Never again forget
that he who plays with fire
gets burnt
My greatest revenge will be, will be
that you stay with him

And finally...........a light appears.....

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Tuesday, December 20, 2011


21 years ago today, Jillian Helene entered the world.

I had worked all day the day before. It was a crazy busy day in Special Care Nursery. I remember I had had cheesy vegetable soup for lunch. I got off work and went to my friend's house to pick up Thomas, and decided to sit and shoot the breeze for a while. And then it happened.


The pop that changed the world happened while I was sitting in her husband's favorite chair. I literally leapt into the kitchen. My friend looked at me like I was nuts and asked what the heck I was doing. I said "Ijustreallyreallyhavetogotothebathroom," and tore outta the room.

Positive towel sign. That's what we called it in OB when a patient came upstairs with a towel in between her legs. And that's exactly how I left my friend's house: with Thomas in a stroller and a towel in between my legs. Another of my friends was going to babysit Thomas for me, so I told her to meet me at the hospital and took off driving. This was in the days before cell phones, so I couldn't even call Dan, who was at work at the same hospital I was heading for.

I went up to Labor and Delivery, pushing Thomas in a stroller, towel in between my legs. Our secretary saw me standing there and asked "when the heck are you gonna have that baby" to which I responded, "probably about now, since my water broke half an hour ago." That got their attention. I got put into a room pretty quickly, got into my gown, and paged Dan to call my room. Here's the conversation:

Dan (sounding confused): "Where are you???"
Me: "Labor and Delivery."
Dan: "What the heck are you doing there?"
Me: "My water broke. You need to come up here."
Dan: "How do you know your water broke? Are you sure?"
Me: "They tested it. My water broke."
Dan: "How reliable is the test?"
::about this time, Thomas, who was 14 months old, tries to stand up in the stroller. I found myself stretching the phone across the bed to try to reach him before he tumbles onto the floor headfirst. The towel was history."
::in walks my nurse::
Me: "Would you just come up here, because I'm standing here with shit running down my legs."
::Nurse looks concerned::
Nurse: "Lisa, is it really shit?"

(Yes, we OB nurses do get worried about that, because it's a bad sign when baby poops before it's born.)

Me: "No, but he needs to get UP HERE."

He did, and we circled the city till 5am, which caused my OB to perspire. He had gotten temporary privileges to deliver me at that hospital, so he didn't have anyone to take over if I didn't deliver in a timely manner. He had an 8:30am flight the next morning, so we needed to get it rolling, but I was stuck at 5cm at 4:30am. He suggested an epidural. We told Dan that the particular anesthetist who was working was going to ask him to leave while she did it, and he was fine with that. Fine, that is, till she walked in.

Anesthetist: "I'm going to ask you to step out while I do this."
Dan: "Why? Why can't I stay?"
Anesthetist: "Because I need you to step out."
Dan: "I don't understand why I can't stay."
Anesthetist: "Because it's my personal preference."
Dan: "What about MY personal preference? Because I don't see why I need to leave my wife when she needs me...."
About this time, a voice straight from The Exorcist said "GET OUT....NOW."

Yep, that'd be me. And he left.

Ten minutes or so later, they laid me down, epidural complete. I told my nurse she'd better check me, so she did, and said nope, still 5 cm. I looked at her kinda crazy and said "you know, I think I need to push." There was another nurse in the corner, setting up instruments for the eventual delivery, and all I heard was her say "uh oh." So yep, my nurse put on gloves, checked me again, and people got a little excited.

Jill was born less than ten minutes later, at 5:09am. Only her name was Valerie. For a while. But that story has already been told. And yes, my OB made his flight.

Out of the mouths of (former) babies...

Thomas is a huge movie buff, and has been for years. At any given time, he might be watching a movie in Swedish, Vietnamese, French, Japanese, or even English. So imagine the other day: in walks Thomas. He says "dude, I just got done watching the BEST Christmas movie ever made!" To which I reply "It's a Wonderful Life?" "No, Mom." "A Christmas Story?" (remembering the time he himself stuck his tongue to our metal doorknob when it was 20 below outside). "No, Mom."

He was starting to sound a little exasperated, so I asked what the heck movie he had watched, cause something told me it wasn't White Christmas. He hates musicals.

"Die Hard, Mom. Best Christmas movie ever made."

And I will let you know the reason why this makes perfect sense to me in another post.


June, 2011 in music

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

May, 2011 in music.

And if you want the So You Think You Can Dance performance that goes with it, this one is amazing.

Thursday, December 08, 2011

February, 2011 in music

The perfect video, hands down, to interpret the perfect song. And the perfect interpretation of February, when I took comfort in my friends.

And then...........

Tuesday, December 06, 2011

The year in music: January, 2011

Love me some Gaga, cause she is crazy. And that's what life was then. A Bad Romance.

And yes, this song is so beautiful. The situation wasn't. But the song is perfect for what I felt.

The Year in Music: December, 2010

So, I've been thinking about teh evolution of me lately, and how I would interpret it into music. I love music -- something I inherited from my parents -- and listen to ALL kinds of music. As in, my iPod contains songs in English, French, Spanish, Italian, and Hindi, to name a few. I seriously love music. So, as I'm driving around during the day, I have been thinking, wow, that song has some serious meaning to my life in 2011. I thought I'd do a little compilation.

Keep in mind that the videos do not necessarily interpret how the song fits into my life. Music is auditory, and only occasionally visual.

So, let's go back to November, 2011, when all the drama started, and I'm gonna work forward from there. You don't have to like my choices. It's my life, after all.

And be forewarned, some of them may be kind of offensive to some, because some of this year has BEEN offensive.

November, 2011:

Original version on my iPod.

Carrie Underwood's version, with lyrics:

Saturday, November 26, 2011

One year later..........

It was Thanksgiving night last night when I got The Speech: "I don't love you, I never loved you, I never wanted to get married, and I never wanted all these responsibilities." Hmmmm......
The next day, it became, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, can you ever forgive me." Hmmm.......
So yeah, the holiday season sucked last year, till the last weekend in January, when he moved out for good. The divorce was final October 24th, at which point I fairly shouted "Free at last, free at last.......thank God Almighty, I'm free at last."

After almost a year of hurt (a lot), healing (a good start), and hilarity (at times), let's fast forward to this Thanksviging week. I've kind of been talking to someone -- as in a man -- and it's been nice. So, we are having an honest to God official date this weekend. As in, dinner. Yeah, 26 years off the market, and Mama's going out. So, what to do? Tell the kids, don't tell the kids? Heck, I don't know, cause it's just dinner, after all. They've certainly been through their share of drama and lies and stupidity this year, and I surely don't want to add anything to their plate, but it became apparent that I couldn't evade it this afternoon.

Jill asked if I wanted to go to the movies with her, her boyfriend and his family tomorrow. Just by happenstance, they are going out at the exact same time as I set up said going-out-with-a-man, so I said no, I was gonna go with my mom later this week (which, by the way, is completely true). She kept asking me why I didn't want to go, and why I didn't want to meet his family, and on and on and on, till I finally looked at her and said "what makes you think I don't have other plans?" She looked a little incredulous and said "what kind of plans?" "As in, plans." A few interrogations later, and very little information given to her, she pronounced that she was ok with it if Seth was ok with it, and how did he feel? He doesn't know, I told her, because I was debating if and when to tell them, because it's just dinner.

So tonight, Seth and I were out, and I mentioned that I wasn't going to be home for dinner tomorrow.
"How come" he said.
"I have plans."
"What kind of plans?"
"Dinner plans."
"With who?"
"A person."
"What person?"
"A person." ::gave him the look::
"Oooooh....." he said. "Who is he? What's his name?"
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"What is he, Yugoslavian?"

That's my boy. Who apparently seems to be just fine with his mother going out on the town. I think.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

How I know God exists

There are some who doubt the existence of God. I don't, and I will tell you a recent example of why.

I am a homecare nurse. I have a patient who lives alone and is confined to her bed. We will call her Pat (not her real name). I visit her nearly every day. She's a treasure -- a woman with serious health issues who has steadfast faith in God. She's amazing, and I just love her. We tease and harass each other all the time, but I really love her.

Last week, I went to see Pat. I walked in and the lights were off, her covers thrown off the bed, and the phone on the floor. Remember, she is bedbound, so she had no way to communicate with the outside world if that phone isn't within reach of her one good arm. It wasn't. I took one look at her and knew something was not right. "What's wrong," I asked her. Her reply was a weak "I'm sick." She looked like hell, quite frankly. We ended up sending her to the hospital, and within an hour, she was unresponsive. It's been a touch and go few days, but she's improving slowly, and it looks like she will make it. Thank God.

But you ask, why does this prove the existence of God? Let me tell you. Pat had called the agency that day to cancel my visit, as well as her aide's visit. She thought that she had caught a GI bug from her grandkids, and didn't want to expose us. I told her to never cancel your nurse when you're sick -- that's what we're here for. In either event, she tried to cancel me, but I never got the message. I even checked my voicemail later -- nothing.

I am watching over another patient -- we'll call her Amber -- while her nurse has a couple of weeks off. Amber gets a nurse visit one time every month, so I had her on my schedule for the next week, a month from her last visit. On the day this all happened, I was on my way to the other patient's house, when Amber's mom called, wondering where I was. Turned out that the regular nurse sets up the monthly appointment in advance but she didn't tell me, so mom was waiting for me, and I didn't know it. I asked the mom if she wanted me to go ahead and come -- hoping she'd say no, because I was almost to Pat's house, which is close to home for me. Going back would've meant a half hour drive one way, then the visit, the return trip to my patient's house, and me being late getting home. No, the mom decided to wait till the next day for the visit, so I went ahead to Pat's home. I ended up calling 911 for her.

What are the odds that I would not get the first message? Add to it that I didn't get the second message about Amber's prescheduled appointment, then add that the mom declined me coming late, and that's three strikes. If I had made that visit, I would've been at least an hour late to see Pat -- rememberm an hour after I got to her house on time, she was unresponsive in the ER. If I hadn't come in when I did, she would've been alone all evening, and who knows how it would've ended.

God works in mysterious ways, they say. I firmly believe that God put me Pat's house to save her life. Don't get me wrong -- this is not about anything I did. Not at all. It's about God using me for that patient, on that day. I am just a vessel. That's why I love being a nurse. And that's why I believe in God.

Monday, October 17, 2011

A day in the life of Utter Chaos.

So here is how my day went.

First, I got up and got dressed for my meeting. The irony of the fact that I'm scheduled for a two day seminar about Relationship Development the day after my divorce became final does not escape me. Anyway, I get up, get dressed, and man, do I look cute. Dress, accessories, tights, boots -- I feel great. So I drive up to Community North -- about 20 minutes away -- park, walk into the Professional Building, and make my way up to the room where the meeting is.

But the room is occupied by a bunch of corporate types. Not peons like me. I walk in, they all stare at me, and I realize I must be in the wrong room. Walk out. No, not wrong room. Wrong DAY. Turned out it's tomorrow, not today. Oh man.............

So I drive home, walk in, and Mom is there doing laundry. She's surprised to see me, but even more surprised to see that I walk straight into my room, still looking cute, and walk out wearing khakis and a polo -- my work uniform. "Why did you change," says Mom. "You looked so cute." ::sigh:: (I told you I looked cute.)

So, I text the co-workers, cause now I need to get a lineup of patients to see, since no one gave me anyone for today, since I was in a meeting all day. I get a quick list of four patients, and start making calls. Keep in mind that I get paid mileage when I arrive at the first house, so when you're a homecare nurse, you want to have at least one visit close to home. Only none of these are -- they're all over 15 miles away. Oh MAN! So, I start making calls, and no one answers. As in, three of four people don't answer. The fourth one answers, but doesn't want to be seen till late afternoon. What the heck am I gonna do till then?

So I call scheduling, and they give me two more patients. I call and get them scheduled -- they're 15 miles away too, so forget the mileage for today. I drive down the hospital and get a call about yet another patient, so I call that one and schedule. Her daughter is mad, cause she apparently wanted her mom to be seen at 9am, but the message was never received. I didn't find out about her mom till after 10, so there was nothing I could do but listen to her unload on me, with frequent "but I know it's not your fault but......" Yeah, I'm looking forward to seeing HER, cause she is on fire. Let's just say there were more miscommunications that were going to make this a potentially powderkeg of a visit. Went right along with my day thus far.

I go do the first visit and it goes well. Second visit, ok. I go see the one with the crabby daughter, and it even goes well. The daughter had given up the ghost and went to bed, so I was in and out. I was supposed to pick up some of our equipment, and I didn't realize till later that I had forgotten one piece. Greeeeaaaaat.

So off I go to Martinsville, which took about 45 minutes. Go to the address that's in the patient's profile, and see the name on the mailbox, as well as the number. I go to the door and knock, all while being madly barked at by their dog. No answer at the door. Knock knock again. No answer. I've now made peace with the dog. I go back to my car and call the patient and tell him "I'm here." He says ok, with an odd tone to his voice. Tells me not to park behind the physical therapist's car, cause she's just finishing up. At that point, I realize that there is no other car in the driveway. How can I be at the wrong house? The name is the same, and the number is the same. What the heck?

I pull out of the driveway, totally confused, and drive a bit further down the road, only to realize that there is ANOTHER mailbox next door with the same number and name on it. WHAT THE HECK? How can that be? Well, I pulled in and parked next to the PT's car. I never told the people that I'd been knocking on the neighbor's door. I wonder if the dog will tell them..........

About that time, I got a call telling me that the last of the patients I'd been trying to reach had finally called back and wanted to be seen. I thought I'd be done around 4, but this added another hour on to the already whacky day. Walk in, find out that the patient is a nurse who is trying to apply for a job in a department where a friend of mine is the manager. Small world. At least we had a nice visit, and everything went ok.

All in all, six patients, four dogs, two cats, a few vials of blood, and no lunch later, I came home and raked leaves. And tomorrow, I will be at Community North, looking cute. Hopefully all day this time.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Things you need to know as a result of Our Vacation

1. We have discovered that Thomas is the Fish God. Every time he gets into the water, schools of fishes swarm around him, and follow him wherever he goes. Every time. It's crazy.
2. Something about The King of all Chickens in a game of pseudo-pictionary is still cracking these kids up, two days later. I, however, slept thru it.
3. Raccoons climb palm trees. Who knew?
4. When Michael falls off a bed, he does NOT bounce.
5. Cell phones demagnetize hotel keys. This was a lesson not learned the first two or three times it happened.
6. Waffle House at 4:30am is a pretty funny place to be.
7. In Florida, liquor can't be sold in grocery stores. It can, however, be sold in a store with the same name as the grocery store, attached to the grocery store, but with a different entrance. And you thought Indiana had weird liquor laws.
9. . There is a store here called Condom Knowledge that I really wanted to investigate, but never did. ::sad face::
9. Avoid Nashville in rush hour at all costs. Seriously.
10. It is possible to have someone draw a huge penis in the sand -- along with HAHA -- on the beach front of a hotel balcony, and it will not be removed quickly. Note: this was NOT our artwork.
11. A dolphin sculpture created in the sand, with a huge wall around it, will be destroyed. The wall, however, will not. People are dumb.
12. No matter where you are in the water, the waves break about 15 feet away from where you are.
13. There must be, at all times, a man on the beach in a Speedo. And he is always too old and too heavy to even think of truly being able to carry it off.
14. You could be wakened in the morning and find that your hotel door is open. And people have been going to the elevator across from said door for over an hour. Probably all laughing at the people sleeping inside. Oh well, life is short.
15. Young children should be given bathroom rights first, lest they wake up the neighbors yelling "let me IN, I gotta POOP!" Repeatedly.
16. Give the parents the secret password to the alarm system before you leave, or the police WILL show up and try to arrest them. NOTE: this could make vacation infinitely more interesting, should you choose not to do it.
17. Colllege students WILL do homework on vacation. High school students will talk about it, then never do it.

I'm sure there are more, but I can't remember them at the moment, so perhaps I will add some later.

Sunday, October 09, 2011

Also heard..........

Seth: "Why are fast food workers alwasy so lazy?"
Thomas: "Maybe because they are working fast food."
Seth: "Yeah, they all are so annoying."
::Michael, in back seat, is silent. With wide eyes::
Me: "You do realize that Michael worked fast food all last summer."
::Michael bursts out laughing::
Me: "Michael, are you planning to..."
Michael: "NO!"
Me: "You seem pretty emphatic about that."
::Michael nods::
Me: "So you guys had better be nicer about fast food workers, or Michael is gonna go all ninja on you."
Thomas: "I'm not seein' that."
Seth: "Yeah, I'm not seein' that at all."
Michael: "You can't see me cause I'm a ninja."
Touche, good sir. Touche.

Saturday, October 08, 2011

He fits right in.

Michael, Jill's boyfriend, is wonderful. I tell her all the time that she is never allowed to hurt him, because it would be like killing a puppy, he's so sweet. And he fits right in with us -- not that we're sweet, mind you, but the sense of humor is killer. Take this conversation, heard on the way to Panama City. Caution: it is partially in Nerdspeak.

Thomas: "Did you know that they have gotten particles to move faster than the speed of light? That's crazy."
Seth: "How did they do that?"
Thomas: "That particle accelerator they built."
Seth: "What's that?"
Thomas: "It accelerates particles, stupid."
Seth: "What for?"
Thomas: "So they can make things move really fast."
Michael: "So kinda like Nascar, only cool."

I love that boy.

Thursday, October 06, 2011

Sethanese, thus far.

So yeah, we are on our way to a short fall break getaway that basically involves my feet, the Gulf and a beach chair. We have thus far made it to Evansville, where we are picking up The Girl and her main squeeze, and take off tomorrow after class.

Seth will be going to class with her. University of Southern Indiana may never be the same.

If you've done much reading about our past car trips, or about Seth in General, you should know that Seth is our main form of entertainment in the car, and tonight was no exception. I plugged in my iPod, and along came Michael Buble's "All I Do Is Dream of You." Here was the conversation that followed.

Me: "This song makes me smile."
Seth: "I like this guy, but he sounds so much like Barry Manilow."
Me: "Barry Manilow? What the heck?"
Seth: "Yeah. Or that other guy. I don't remember his name."
Me: "Frank Sinatra?"
Seth: "Yeah, him. I never remember his name."

After we got to Jill's apartment, a conversation about Hank Williams, Jr. ensued, which involved the word cattle calling.

Seth: "Cattle calling. Isn't that what construction workers do?"
::blank looks pointed at Seth from all four of us in the room::
Me: "Uh, I think you are thinking of cat calls, not cattle calls."

::sigh:: Apparently my child confuses hot women with cows. My chances of becoming a grandmother some day just dropped substantially.

We also discovered that Thomas didn't understand that the word "scarecrow" was derived from the idea that particular item Scares Crows. And when asked by his sister what "germane" means, The Heir to the Throne responded "it's what people from Germany are called." WOW. In all fairness, he ultimately pointed out that he meant Germanic, but I prefer the realization that Sethanese may have a cousin, as yet to be named.

As usual, this will be another interesting trip.

Sunday, September 11, 2011


I remember very well, the events of that day in 2001, when our lives were changed forever. I remember how scared we were, wondering how many more planes would go down, or what would happen next. I remember sitting in line at the gas station, because my car was WAY below E, and being worried I would run out before I got to the pump -- all because people were panicked that gas prices would quadruple overnight.

I remember.

I remember every day, even now, when I hear a plane fly overhead. I thank God that they've changed airline security, but always wonder if it is enough to keep us safe, when people are willing to put bombs in their shoes or their underwear. And I remember our first flight after 9/11 happened.

We were flying to Florida. Dan and I were going on a cruise just before Halloween, and the kids were going to divide their time between both sets of grandparents. It was the first time we flew together as a family, and everyone was incredulous. If I had a nickel for every time someone asked "aren't you AFRAID to fly right now" they'd ask. My response was always no. My theory was, if something happened to me, I wouldn't want my kids to be left alone. And if something happened to my kids, well, bury me right along with them, because I could not go on anyway. I figured that if someone bombed our plane, we'd all die together, and no one would be left alone.

Yeah, people thought I was weird. Heck, people still think I'm weird, but I'm ok with that.

So, in preparation for the flight, I called the airport. When I finally got hold of someone in security, I asked if they would allow my then 6 year old son to bring his blanket on the plane. Specifically, I asked if they would let him through security with it, because if we got to the airport and they confiscated it, we would all end up on CNN, with the headline "6 Year Old Succumbs to Blanket Separation Anxiety." Not taking this blanket was NOT an option. Well, the lady in security's response was "of COURSE he can bring his blanket," in a very condescending tone. "Well, I wasn't sure." "Why in the world would he not be allowed to take his blanket," she replied."

"Well, I didn't know, since it's a queen sized quilt." There was a pregnant pause.
"Well, I hardly think he could carry that," she said.
"Oh, he does quite fine with it, actually," I said, "but if they take it away from him at security, it could get very ugly and loud very quickly."

She still sounded like she thought I was stupid when I hung up the phone. But trust me, Seth lugged that huge quilt everywhere. So we went to the airport, checked in, and got on the plane. I was sitting in front of him and Dan, when suddenly, a child-sized shirt flew over the seat, landing in my lap. I turned around to see what the heck the kid was doing. There he was, topless, wrapped in his blanket. He looked at me, shrugged, and said "I was hot."

After the cruise to nowhere (there was a hurricane, but that's another story), we confirmed our flight home. We had to report to the airport 2 1/2 hours early -- remember, they were being really crazy about the security at the time -- so we went, the father in law dropped us off, and we got in line. When we finally got to the counter, the boy there -- named Mohammed, which sadly, gave me pause, but again, remember how it was at in those days -- informed us that the flight time had changed, and that we were about to miss our flight.

We took off at a full run, with three kids, trailing that queen sized quilt behind us all the way to the tram in the Orlando airport. After we jumped out of the tram, making sure that the quilt wasn't caught in the door, we ran to the gate and made it, just in time to check in before we took off.

We've flown several times since then, sometimes with the blanket, sometimes not. He takes it camping, on vacation, on overnights, and he plans to take it when he goes to Europe for 17 days next summer. And you know what? If he's found something that gives him comfort, why not, because we cannot stay entrenched in post 9/11 fear. We have moved forward, learning the lessons that come from that day, and know that we live in a safer world than ten years ago. There is comfort in simplicity. I think Seth's got it all figured out.

Wednesday, August 03, 2011


School started last Thursday for Seth. He likes school, but lamented its return for at least two weeks of his roughly six week summer break. His school is year round, but a rather warped year round, so he really doesn't get a long break. Nonetheless, Irvington Preparatory didn't read his memo, and started on schedule.

Now, Seth is a night owl. He likes to stay up late, but frequently wimps out and falls asleep long before his buddies. Last week, however, he ended up staying up pretty late the night before school starts, and in the morning, it showed. Keep in mind that the boy has two alarm clocks that go off -- one on one side of his head, the other on the other side. He doesn't even flinch. So every morning, the conversation is the same, and it goes like this:

"Seth. Seeeeeeth. SETH."
"What? You have to get up."
"I'm awake."
"You have to be vertical or I'm not leaving this room."
"It's ok. I'm awake." (said as he lays stock-still, wrapped in his blanket. I haven't seen eyes yet.)
"Seth. Sit up. I'm not leaving until I see you UP."
::sits up, wrapped in a blanket like the Virgin Mary, looking like he lives under a bridge::
"I'm awake."
"Now, don't lay back down. Do you want the light?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"Ok. Have a good day."

This has been our morning conversation for two years. Occasionally he surprises me and actually wakes up for the alarm, but I think he likes our little exchange, or he's a glutton for punishment, one or the other. Well, Thursday, he was wiped out, but he knew I was driving him to school (first day, Mommy wants to see him off to school, you know), so he got up and motivated. Friday morning wasn't a whole lot better, but he got up and moving, and we made it to school just in time for him to get to class. Monday morning came, and his wagon was still draggin -- he actually did fall back to sleep briefly, but he was up in time to get in the car, though I'm not 100% positive he remembered the trip.

And then today came.

I have mentioned in the past that the boy talks in his sleep. I have also mentioned that he will have entire conversations with you that he doesn't ever remember having. Well, this morning, I went in and woke him up like usual. I use the term "woke up" loosely, as I was pretty sure he was having one of those unconscious conversations. He had actually gone to bed at a fairly reasonable hour, but he was dead to the world when I walked in. Here's how it went:

"Seth. Seeeeeeetthhhh. SETH. SETH SETH. SETH!"
::garbled unintelligible verbiage::
"SETH. Wake UP."
"garbled unintelligible verbiage::
"Seth, you have to get up. I have to see you vertical or I'm not leaving this room."
"wha......." ::garbled unintelligble verbiage::
::he makes a move, but he is wrapped up like a mummy. He sits up about 1/4 of the way, gets tangled, gives up, and lies back down::
::He sits up. Unintelligble speech. "I'm up." The eyes are open. He is looking at me. He is probably totally unaware of what is going on, but I keep going."
"Are you awake?"
"I'm awake."
"Do you want the light?"
::unintelligble speech::
"What? You need to wake up. Don't lie back down."
"I'm awake."
"Do you want the light?"
"Yeah. Thank you."
"OK, I am going to turn on the light. Do NOT lie back down. Don't go back to sleep. You have to walk to school today, so you have to wake up."
"Ok, I'm fine."

Amazingly, he made it to school on time. I live in amazement of his abilities to get awake, when he looks so bedraggled. He is much like me -- I hate morning. So tonight, we were discussing the next couple of days, because I am off, and I can take him to school. And here's the conversation that followed.

"Did you wake me up this morning? Because if you did, I don't remember it at all."
"Yes, I did."
"Did you talk to me, because I don't remember it at all."
"Yes, we had an entire conversation, but you were pretty sleepy."
"I don't remember it at all."
"Well, it was one of those ones where I knew you were asleep, and I figured you wouldn't remember it."
"I don't."
"So Seth, I know I've been waking you up later than usual. What time do you want to get up?"
"Whenever you get up."
"But that's what I've been doing. I've been getting up later than usual though, so I'm getting you up late, and I know you need extra time to get awake. What time do you want to get up?"
"Whenever you get up."
::getting nowhere::
"Seth, what time do you set your alarm clock for?"
"Six thirty."
"OK, so I will get you up at 6:30."
"I used to set it for 5:30."
::mother shudders::
"Why in the world would you want to get up that early?"
"So I can take a nap."

Ponder that for a minute.

"So you get up earlier so you can take a nap?"
"Yeah, I like to wake up, then take a nap, so I can get awake better when I get up."

Hmmm........hmmm............I will say, this child must not be related to me, because I fly out of the bed at the last possible moment, many days, because I hate to get up, hate the sound of the alarm clock, hate morning, and everything associated with it, and if the boy didn't live here, I would seriously find a way to not get out of bed at any time that has an AM associated with it. And I will also say that there is NO WAY that I am going to wake this boy up at 5:30 am, because there is absolutely no reason on earth good enough for anyone to get up that early in the morning, unless George Clooney is involved, and I wouldn't need to be getting out of bed for that, so it's a moot point.

So tomorrow, the boy will be wakened at 6:30, and hopefully he will wake up. In time for his nap.

Saturday, July 02, 2011

This is my daughter on drugs

I've been running a M*A*S*H Unit of late, what with Jill getting her wisdom teeth out, and Seth getting a two for one surgical special on a shoulder and a toe. Yeah, I guess it's a good thing I'm a nurse.

Jill had her wisdom teeth out a week and a half ago. Her doc has his patients take a mild sleeping pill an hour before the procedure, and just like clockwork, Jill got loopy. She made it into the car ok, but then I realized she didn't have shoes on. When I told her to put her shoes on, she started a little diatribe about how she didn't think she should have to wear shoes into the office, and why couldn't she just go in in her socks? She lost that battle, but that's when it got interesting.

She went to put her shoes on, and suddenly exclaimed "these shoes are made by COMMUNISTS!" She seemed rather amazed, then thrust them up to the front seat to her boyfriend Michael, who was riding shotgun. "LOOK," she said, then grabbed the offending shoe back, and said "Better red than dead." Michael said "well, I'd rather be alive," at which point Jill said "are you a COMMUNIST?"

Oye vay. Michael is as gentle a soul as anyone could ever be. I don't even know if he votes, but I do know one thing, and that's that he is neither Red nor dead.

We managed to get her inside the doctor's office, where she promptly started dancing with Michael. When they called her name, the last thing we heard before the door closed was the lady asking Jill if she needed to use the restroom, and Jill responding with a crisp "nope." The girl was stoned outta her mind.

Afterward, it took Michael and the tech to get the girl into the car, cause she could barely stand. Once inside and rolling, she pronounced that she was "seeing three of everything," and started counting it out: "three guys, three trucks, two telephone poles, three lights......" That was fine, but then she started grabbing at things in the air. When I asked her what she was doing, she said "trying to catch them, whatever "them" was. Then she suddenly let out an emphatic "Communist!"

Apparently, that lady at the bus stop was a Communist. Who knew?

We kept going, at which point Jill pointed to a building and said "that's full of bad people." Michael responded with an incredulous "Lutherans?" because she had just pointed to Gethsemane Lutheran Church (or Jessamain, as Dan once called it. Yeah.) I always knew that Jill was less than impressed with that church's soup, as they hosted some of the Wednesday services during Lent, and their soup and sandwich suppers did not meet her expectations. Apparently that made them bad people in her eyes.

Then Michael asked me what was in the road up ahead, because yes, there was something, and we were far enough away that it was hard to tell what it was. I told him I wasn't sure, then realized it was a plastic bag. When I told that to Michael, Jill responded, "there's a kitten in it." Michael, once again mystified by this person his girlfriend had become, said "a kitten?" and started laughing. Jill acknowledged it, and we both laughed.

When we got home, it took both of us to get her into the house, a feat accomplished only after I lifted her feet up on the single step of the porch, because she kept trying and couldn't get her foot high enough. If I'd waited for her, we would've been there a while. Once inside, we took the path of least resistance and put her to bed. She almost missed the bed when she sat down, then immediately took one shoe off. She couldn't get the other off, so I removed it for her and told her to lay down, at which point she went straight back, lying across the bed instead of the length of the bed, where she proceded to sleep for a good hour or two.

Yep, she's a cheap junkie. The next time she has surgery, we will sell tickets. I will be rich. Would that make me a Communist?

Saturday, June 25, 2011

The Best Dog

Today is a sad day in the house of Utter Chaos. Our beloved Timmy has left us to go to his final resting place. There was never a better dog on this earth than my Timmy.

Timmy came to us as a puppy. I still remember the first time we saw him, curled up next to his mom (a Springer Spaniel). He was tiny, very quiet, and sweet. He had been named named him Poochie, but that name didn't stick. I have to admit, I thought naming him Timmy was weird, but we got him for the kids, and Jill named him Timothy -- Timmy for short. He didn't stay tiny for long, and his heart was as big as the rest of him.

Timmy had a penchant for food, and for running. He once chewed the entire lining out of my church coat, just to get to the one Hershey kiss contained therein. It was not unusual for him to help himself to any kind of food lying around, whether it was a steak, a cake, or his favorite -- chocolate. It didn't take me long to figure out the dosage of Pepto Bismol for a dog his age. We used it frequently.

Timmy ran away more times than I could count, but it wasn't to get away. It was to socialize. He would go flying out of the yard and be gone before you could catch him, only to come wandering back 10 or 12 hours later. At that point, he would flop down in front of the fireplace (he was allergic to our carpet) and sleep for several hours. I never knew what he did on those days off, but he sure seemed to enjoy himself.

One time, Timmy took off, and it was several hours before anyone realized he was gone. (This is a busy house and we simply missed it.) That night, he didn't come back, and I was worried sick. Next morning, we got a call from someone who said they had him. We got to their house, only to be told that yes, they had him, but he had taken off that morning. And oh, by the way, "he is the best dog." Yes, he was. The next day, the exact same thing happened -- he had wandered up to someone, they called, and he was gone before we arrived to get him. "And oh, by the way, he is the best dog!" Yes, he was. This went on for four days, till he finally was nabbed and taken, of all things, to our vet. Fortunately they recognized him, called us, and we got him back. After that, he got microchipped.

Twice he escaped and was taken to the Humane Society. The first time, we called to see if by chance he was there, figuring there was no way, because he hadn't been gone much more than an hour, and the Humane Society is 45 minutes away. They told us that they didn't think he was there, but we were welcome to come and look to verify this. We walked into the Found pets area where most people never go, and a caucophony of dog barking hit us like a wave. Somehow, in all that noise, Jill said she heard Timmy. I thought she was crazy, but I should've known better. I followed her as she quickly went through the rooms and straight to Timmy, who stood there wagging his tail like we had just gotten home. How Jill did that, I will never know.

Another time, I took the kids to Michigan while Dan stayed behind, working on a job at our church that required the BIG ladders. I was freaked out when he would call and tell me how high up he was, and what the view was like, so I just left town till he was done. I'm not sure how it happened, but Timmy got loose. I'm not even sure that Dan realized he was loose until he came trotting up to him at the church, wagging his tail like he hadn't seen him in days. I have no idea how Timmy was able to do that, because he had to walk about a mile, crossing two VERY busystreets in the process, but nothing was going to keep him from his family -- even if there was only one of us in town.

Timmy travelled well, so he went to St. Louis, Florida, and on several camping trips with us. He loved to ride with his nose out the window, and he loved being outside. It wasn't uncommon for him to lay in the front yard while I worked in my flower garden, only to stand up and stare whenever anyone walked by. He didn't usually approach them, but he did want them to know he was there.

As the years went on, he slowed down some, but what 14 year old dog doesn't? He could still chase a squirrel with the best of them, though. He was as deaf as a post in recent months, but would still come to the kitchen when the other dogs were getting treats. He was active and happy, hanging with his buddy Boo. Then suddenly last night, he took a turn for the worse, and the only real option was to put him to sleep, or he would linger in pain until the end. None of us wanted that. All four of us sat with him for a long time, stroking his fur while he slept on his blanket. They had sedated him just enough to relax him, and I was concerned that I wouldn't get to say a proper goodbye, but just before the final injection, he lifted his head and looked right at me. He was very drowsy, but he knew, and I know that he was saying goodbye. We all sobbed as he left us, knowing that there will never be another dog like him.

I will miss him terribly. There is a hole in my heart the size of a German Shepherd-Springer Spaniel, and nothing will ever fill it. But I do know that Timmy was the best dog, that he had a happy life, and that he was loved. And isn't that what it's all about?

RIP Timmy Utter. I love you.

Wednesday, June 08, 2011

Hi Ho, Hi Ho

So, since the man has departed the abode, I am left to do the fixer-uppin. I'm rather enjoying it, quite frankly. I've been working at painting every surface I can, because when I really looked around here, it was pretty wonky.

The living room is blue, but the entryway was never painted to match, s it's tan, with remainders of the old border still in there. The dining room was cranberry, but was painted tan a couple of years ago -- but the hallway still had one wall that is cranberry. The kitchen was painted green around the same time the dining room was, but the back hallway was still the original yellow the kitchen had been.

In short, my eyes were burning.

The outside of the house was painted blue a couple of years ago. It's always been blue, and I've never been enthralled with it. I decided to paint it as well, but when I did a walkaround, figuring that there would be minimal prep (since it was just painted by the man, and he's a painter), I found that there was exposed wood on the back porch that was peeling the paint, because it was never primed underneath, and worse yet, there is all kind of rotting siding on the sunroom.

I may've said a bad word or three.

So a couple of weekends ago, we ripped out the rotten stuff, which left exposed insulation which, oddly, had been installed backward. ::sigh:: Did I mention that this whole thing has been a learning experience? So a friend of a friend told me what I needed to do to make it right, and I went to Lowe's to get the stuff. Side note: the people at Lowe's are VERY helpful to the clueless.
So I bought this styrofoam-y sheathing that was maybe 8 feet long and 3/4" thick, without thinking about the fact that OH! I have a Toyota Camry. Not a van. This was gonna be an interesting trip home.

Luckily, I had bought some rope for a clothesline at the same time, so I thought I had it in the bag. I found out I was wrong, when I went out the doors of Lowe's and the wind gusted. I was pushing a cart, while carrying the sheathing in my left hand. The wind caught underneath it, it flew up like a sail, and almost took off to parts unknown. I couldn't grab it quickly enough because of the cart, so I struggled to get the whole thing under control without losing my cart into traffic. A couple of Latino men were crossing the parking lot, and one headed toward me, presumably to help. It was at that point that the styrofoam snapped. The Latino man looked rather crestfallen, as if to say "oh man, you just broke it BAD," but I just laughed and said "oh well, I can still use it and maybe it will fit into my car." He just looked at me like I was nuts.

So I got to the car and tied the sheathing on the top. This was no easy feat either, since I was alone and the wind was gusting like mad. It threatened to fly off a couple of times, and I think more than one Lowe's customer was amused, watching my antics. I finally got it tied down and headed home. Slowly. Not on the interstate. I realized a couple of blocks down the road that the car behind me was WAY behind me, as in, maybe trying to avoid me distance, so I stopped at the gas station on the next corner. Said car ended up following me in and drove by me very slowly, looking at me once again like I was crazy.

Sure enough, it was loose and threatening to fly off, so I tied it down, this time more securely, and headed off again. The same thing happened: the too distant car behind me, and a stop a couple of blocks away. This time I found that the sheathing was tied down better but was still loose, and the rope was now digging into it, causing long grooves to be cut into the side.

I wasn't going to be able to tie it down any better by myself, and I had nothing to lose, so I took it down -- it almost flew away again -- folded it into thirds, and shoved it into the back seat of my Camry.

When I got home, the wind had died down. I never saw another gust like the ones working against me, but it didn't matter. I won. And you know what? That busted up, groove filled sheathing is firmly ensconced in the side of my house, and it looks just fine.

Wind=0. Lisa=1. I win.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Riding in Cars with Boys

So, I went there and back again today. I had to make a run to Chicago to pick up some cabinets. They wouldn't fit in my car, of course, so I rented a cargo van to do it. You know, one of those serial killer vans? Well, I had to take Seth and his buddy with me, so they could do the lifting, and wow, was that a treat.

I just love teenaged boys. They make the most interesting road trip companions.

First, they asked me if I had duct tape, because they wanted to duct tape their mouths and wrists and look out the back window frantically during the trip -- just to freak out the people behind us, and to confirm the serial killer aspect of the van. Ixnay on that one -- more because we didn't have duct tape than anything. I would've loved to have a picture of that. I feel fairly certain it would be Seth's Facebook profile picture shortly thereafter. The next thing you know, CPS and/or the FBI would be knocking on my door, so maybe it wouldn't be a good idea after all.

On the way there, they mostly did nerd things like Algebra 2, talking about cube roots, played chess, and slept. Boooooring! The trip home was a whole different matter.

There was one point at which Nick was playing with the radio, giving his commentary on the stations in a word or three -- white noise, country, "Nope", white noise, female singer, "don't like you," white noise, rap, "uh-uh", white noise, more singing, "boring", white noise, male singer, "you can't sing," white noise, rap, "no way," white noise, more get the drift. I can't remember exactly what he ended up leaving it on, because I was more interested in the commentary than the actual music.

I had mentioned to the boys that they had missed all of the huge windmill-wind-energy-thingies on the way up there, so Seth asked me to be sure to point them out on the way home. Like you can miss the things -- they are HUGE, and there are dozens of them. It looks to me like something out of War of the Worlds, and quite frankly, they are a little creepy. Well, Seth was zonked when we got to them on the way home, so I poked him, and got a "huh?" I told him the windmills were in front of him. He said "neat," stared into space for a minute, and was out again. A few minutes later, I decided to poke him again, because we were close enough to see how big they were. "Huh?" "Windmills." "Neat." Stare into space. Zonked.

I don't think he remembers seeing them now. I'm not even sure he did, because he looked messed up.

About half an hour later, the cabinets I picked up were rattling to beat the band, and I do mean it was LOUD. I jokingly told Nick to quit messing with them, at which point he half-yelled "there was a spider, and it was huge, and I hate spiders." I asked where said spider was. He looked at me like I was nuts, and told me he'd killed it dead. This turned into an interesting discussion about spider heaven. 16 year old little philosophers they are.

A little while later, Seth looked out the window, and I heard him say "COOL!" I asked him what, and he turned and looked at me with some kind of giddy and said "have you ever moved your Adam's apple up and down while looking in the mirror? It's amazing!" Somehow I don't think MY Adam's apple would be amazing, but whatever floats your boat, brother. It kept the boy entertained, that's all I've got to say.

And of course, when I pulled into the CVS drive-thru, Einstein and his buddy asked what I was doing. "Picking up my drugs," said I, to which they both responded "cocaine, or weed?"

I need to start drinking.

Friday, April 01, 2011

The Five Things

My computer nerd co-worker told me that his father told him at their wedding reception that there are five things you need to do in order to keep your marriage intact in times of, shall we say, discourse? I think that he is pretty spot on with his suggestions.

Here they go. In case of a disagreement, the man of the house is to immediately say these five things, preferably in order:

1. Please forgive me.
2. You were right, I was wrong.
3. It will never happen again.
4. I don't know what came over me.
5. I love you very much.

I have, of course, made my co-worker repeat all of these things to me any time that he disagrees with me which, of course is often, given his viewpoint of functionality vs pretty with our software, and my completely opposite view -- it's not gonna function well, unless things are cleaned up and pretty. I do, however, modify the last one a bit, since him telling me he loves me is just plain wrong, since he is very happily married. Instead, we have substituted it with "I have a deep and abiding respect for you and your position."

Repeat as necessary. And please note, there is no version for the female to use. As we know the man is always wrong. Right?

Monday, February 28, 2011

The Grapes of Seth

This son 'o mine never fails to crack me up.

I came home from a night of treadmilling, and Seth came bursting into the kitchen sliding sideways past me. "Do we have any grapes? I need a grape," he said, as he opened the refrigerator door. I told him I was fairly sure that we did not have grapes. I was actually QUITE sure that we didn't have any grapes, but that didn't stop him from frantically rifling the fridge, nonetheless, after which he turned to me and said "do we have a candle? I need a candle."

I reminded him that candles require fire to be of any use, and that Seth and fire stopped being a good idea like..........well, never. He kept badgering me frantically about a candle, and he went gliding -- no joke -- into the living room to get one. He came back into the kitchen asking whether we had a lighter. I pointed out that any lighters we had likely went out the door with his father, and I doubted there was one here. I told him to use a piece of spaghetti, which is the way I always light candles. He asked about that "clicky thing we use to light the fireplace," and I directed him to where it was.

I seemed to be having a problem getting an explanation as to why he needed the non-existent grape and a candle, when he informed me that he'd been watching "really interesting videos" on youtube. I asked if they involved things blowing up. He responded, "not exactly." So far this whole thing has not instilled confidence in my situation, and I barely had my jacket off.

So The Boy finds the candle, then comes in and lights it with said clicky lighter thing. Then blows OUT the candle. And semi-immediately clicks the lighter above the candle. The lighter lit. Like normal. Disappoinment on boy's face. The process was repeated. And repeated again. Each time, a sigh of disappointment. Finally after the fourth time, he pronounced that it didn't work. I asked him if he was supposed to be creating a fireball of death or what, and he responded, that no, the grape was supposed to kind of melt into a ball of protoplasm.

Except that he never found a grape. And I still have no idea where the grape was supposed to be put, since all he was doing was lighting a candle, blowing it out, and then clicking the lighter.

Sometimes I am fairly certain that Seth and I are not in the same orbit, but I want to be in his, because it is a very happy place where people are easily amused. Even without the grapes.

Monday, February 21, 2011

The Manly Man-Boy

So I discovered the other day that despite the fact that only two people live in this house now, there were EIGHT bottles of shampoo or conditioner in our shower. Eight. There are slightly less shower gel bottles -- four, to be exact. And one is a smaller one from a gift set that Thomas gave me, so let's call it 3 1/2.

Seth was a little concerned, however, at his lack of manly options. Apparently, as he says, he just didn't feel right showering with pink girly smelling shower gel. I pointed out that there was one bottle of manly Avon "Oak" that had perhaps an inch of stuff left in it, but he wanted to get something else the next time we went to the store.

So tonight, we went out into the night and went shopping at Kroger. When we got to the skin care aisle, he made a beeline to the manly smelling stuff which was, in typical teenaged boy fashion, Ax. I turned the corner to the next aisle while he was perusing his options, but heard him say something about "attraction." I asked him what the heck he was looking at, and he replied with "Dark Attraction." I pointed out the many ways of wrong that sounded to me. His reply was that "Dark Attraction doesn't exactly sound like something I want to be rubbing all over my body."

The boy has a point. I didn't even look to see what he put in the cart, but I can tell you two things: 1. It wasn't pink. 2. It was not Dark Attraction.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Man's best friend

Boo, our 7 year old mutt on Prozac, loves to eviscerate stuffed animals. Jill used to buy him toys at the DAV, just to let him gut them. He did, within minutes of them entering the house, and leaving the living room looking like a big cloud, with stuffing all over the place. He then carries the floppy carcass all over the house, and plays tug-o-war with anyone who will join in. Jill can even get him to play hide and seek with it. It's hilarious.

He hasn't gotten to do it much since The Brat left for school, but he has a new habit: pulling the batting out of my quilt. I have a quilt, not old, that is getting rather shredded from me bundling up in it. It's not a huge deal. Although I love that quilt, it was bought for cheap at Sears, and has now been relegated to covering the man-cave couch, in a desperate attempt to keep the dog hair at bay. Well, Boo has decided that it is his personal mission to remove the batting from inside every square inch of it with his teeth. It's quite something to watch, and he keeps at it, despite our admonitions to leave the darned thing alone.

So Thomas was over the other day, to watch football with Dan. Dan wasn't home yet, so the Heir to the Throne was sitting in the King's chair. Weird noises were coming from the couch, and we looked over to see Boo chewing on a piece of batting that he had stuck in his mouth. "What are you doing," said The Heir. Boo just looked at him and kept trying to get the stuff loose. It wasn't looking good. It was, as a matter of fact, looking more like he might barf on the couch, cause he just could not get it loose. "Not going too good for you, is it, Boo," said Thomas. Boo sat up and stuck his head near Thomas, with a look that said "I'm not too sure about this, dude." Thomas started laughing.

It was at that moment that Boo, formerly so terrified of him that he'd pee on the floor if Thomas even looked at him, gave him the ultimate gift: he dropped the whole slimy mess on Thomas' shirt. I swear he looked proud when he laid back down.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

Warning: potentiall offensive to non-medical people

I will just say, nurses have an odd sense of humor. Be forewarned.

So, in my "new" job of 2 months, I am a systems analyst, working in our electronic medical record department. I'm quickly gaining a rep as the housekeeper of the system, because I've been fixing all of the typographical errors, punctuation gone awry, and lists that aren't alphabetized. Typos make me crazy, so maybe we can say that after 2 months, I'm almost sane. Not.

One of the nurses put in a Help Desk ticket to get a bunch of old diabetic monitors taken off of the list, so that the docs don't have to wade through a bazillion listings that aren't usable. It started with a list of about 50 things to do, maybe more, and now it's morphed into a huge project. Keep in mind that the majority of our patients are on Medicaid, and Medicaid won't pay for everything. add to that that the list of a bazillion things has listings for brands like Albertson's and Giant Eagle that do not operate anywhere near central Indiana. So yeah, I've been weeding those out.

I also took out the listings for the Land Before Time diapers, which I'm sure Jill wishes were still made, since it's one of her favorite movies. It gave me a real visual, remembering how many times the kids watched that movie. A visual that wasn't nearly so profound as when I came across the listing for a Vaginal Dispenser.

What the heck is that?

I thought at first that maybe it was one of those things you use to put Monistat in, but we call those applicators. So yeah, I have no idea, but I can't get the picture of a vajayjay spewing out M&Ms out of my head. I think I'll stop cleaning now.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Never can say goodbye.....

So I went to lunch with the girls yesterday, and when I left, I got a true shocker. Now, I work in da 'hood, and I'm not easily surprised by much of anything that happens there. We share our side of the building with a bunch of social services. We get propositioned regularly by the prisoners. We ladies consider it to be a good week when we have toilet paper, because it's stolen on a pretty regular basis. And let's just say, you could get higher than a kite walking in the front door most days. It keeps the workday interesting.

So I went out to my car and put it in reverse. Started backing out really slowly, and suddenly the door on the car next to me flew open. The back door, that is. So now, I'm not only watching out for stoned drivers in the parking lot, I was worried about that door hitting my mirror as I tried to get out. I slowed down even more. I realized that the door wasn't closing, so then I was worried -- does this dude know that my car is moving, and is he gonna back into me. That was when I got an eyeful.

Dude was doing a furious booty shake, droopy pants and all, right in my passenger's window. WOW.

I thought that was strange enough, and was wondering if it was a private dance, till I backed up far enough to turn the wheel to get out. That's when I saw that he had moved to the back of his car, accompanied by his lady friend, and now BOTH of them were going at it with booty shakes the speed of lightening. They were still at it when I exited the parking lot. It was like having two butts waving goodbye.

That was a first. And that alone is something I never thought I'd say about my place of employment.

So enjoy this video, and if you don't know what a booty shake is, wait till 3:00 on the video, then imagine this being done practically in your face by a total stranger. I know I'll never forget it.