Julie is 34 weeks along now, and we are anxious to hold Greyson in our arms. He's been in our hearts for the past 8.5 months, and there he will always remain. We just want to hold him now! Julie said that she wishes she could have one more ultra sound. I wondered why she would want another one, he would just turn his back on the tech. The little stinker.
I like the openness of today's modern mom's. I would never have thought of doing a belly cast, and if I had thought of it, I wouldn't have had the freedom of self to do one. That's just me being honest. I have to say though, that I love the one that Julie has done. It will be something special that she will always have. We've come a long way since my Grandmas day. I remember Grandma Lewis telling Aunt Bell to tell Jane and I that we should not say that a woman is pregnant. That wasn't nice. When my mom was "expecting" my brother, and then me, women in that day continued to dress in styles that would hide their pregnancy, wearing loose fitting clothes.
Now "pregnant" women pose for pictures with their pregnant belly exposed, and some times more than their belly is exposed. They have family pictures done with the mom, dad and baby naked, and post them for all and sundry to see. Pregnancy is not something to be ashamed of, to hide, to talk quietly about. It's a time of joy, and it's celebrated.
I still have my reservations about some of it, and I know that's just my raising peeking through. I'm thrilled to have a grandson, and I've enjoyed the past eight and a half months with Julie, and the soon to be Greyson. I'm looking forward to all the years ahead with Greyson, and the joy he will bring into our lives.
Cretia
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Saturday, March 19, 2011
I'm Not In It Alone
In recent days, I have become the care taker/taxi driver/go to person for Uncle Huey. I have also been helping mom by driving her around since she broke her foot. Her foot is healed, and she is back to being independent. What I've noticed in recent days is how many people my age are helping their aging parents. I've felt some comfort knowing that I'm not alone in the journey.
The other day, mom and I were waiting for an elevator at Lovelace Medical Center, when I happened to become aware of three people having a rather loud conversation. Two older people, a man with a walker, hearing aid, and some obvious health problems. His wife, who was explaining, in a rather loud voice, to their son that the urine specimen had obviously gotten lost between the lab and the doctors office. They needed to come back to the doctors office that afternoon. While the wife was yelling at the son about the missing urine specimen, the husband was holding onto the walker with a death grip, and asking the son if he would be available that afternoon to bring them back. The wife then yelled, "I could drive us here." The expression on the son's face was priceless.
It's an awkward place to be for all involved. As a daughter/niece, I find myself trying to find that fine line of being supportive, and letting mom and Uncle Huey have the dignity of being self sufficient, and trying to make sure that I don't dishonor them in anyway by taking away from them. Uncle Huey and his walker can be dangerous, so I feel like a cop on traffic duty. The other day when we arrived at his doctors appointment, there was long line of people waiting to check in. The walker picked up speed, and Uncle Huey was stretching out behind it with his lame foot dragging. I was trying to get ahead of the walker and Uncle Huey before he wiped out the long line of people. After we got him stopped, and everyone ahead of him was safe, he told me that one of the brakes wasn't working properly. Okay! Need to remember to bring along the set of Allen wrenches the next time and tighten that.
As I'm observing other people with their parents, I know that they are also observing me with mine. We can feel overwhelmed, alone in the process, but we aren't alone. I don't know these other people, or their parents, but I understand their struggle. The day of role reversal came sooner than we thought, and we feel we're not ready to deal with it. Ready or not, here it is. Just like parenting, we didn't have a manual then, and we don't have one now. It's a learn as we go process, and there will be some set backs. There will be some things we wish we would have done differently, but we just have to forge ahead.
One thing that I have learned in all of this, I need to be a nice person now, because when I get old, I don't want to be a pain in the back side of my three children. It will be hard enough for them to take care of me without me being mean to them. Not that mom or Uncle Huey are being mean to me, but I have seen that in others. I should probably get a hearing aid now, so I can practice talking with my "inside" voice. I don't need to be yelling to the world about all my ailments when I'm 93. I don't need them yelling back at me that I can't drive the car anymore. It might be best if I continue to observe others who are caring for loved ones, and I can learn from them what I should, or should not be doing. In the mean time, I have learned to walk in front of Uncle Huey and his run away walker.
Cretia
The other day, mom and I were waiting for an elevator at Lovelace Medical Center, when I happened to become aware of three people having a rather loud conversation. Two older people, a man with a walker, hearing aid, and some obvious health problems. His wife, who was explaining, in a rather loud voice, to their son that the urine specimen had obviously gotten lost between the lab and the doctors office. They needed to come back to the doctors office that afternoon. While the wife was yelling at the son about the missing urine specimen, the husband was holding onto the walker with a death grip, and asking the son if he would be available that afternoon to bring them back. The wife then yelled, "I could drive us here." The expression on the son's face was priceless.
It's an awkward place to be for all involved. As a daughter/niece, I find myself trying to find that fine line of being supportive, and letting mom and Uncle Huey have the dignity of being self sufficient, and trying to make sure that I don't dishonor them in anyway by taking away from them. Uncle Huey and his walker can be dangerous, so I feel like a cop on traffic duty. The other day when we arrived at his doctors appointment, there was long line of people waiting to check in. The walker picked up speed, and Uncle Huey was stretching out behind it with his lame foot dragging. I was trying to get ahead of the walker and Uncle Huey before he wiped out the long line of people. After we got him stopped, and everyone ahead of him was safe, he told me that one of the brakes wasn't working properly. Okay! Need to remember to bring along the set of Allen wrenches the next time and tighten that.
As I'm observing other people with their parents, I know that they are also observing me with mine. We can feel overwhelmed, alone in the process, but we aren't alone. I don't know these other people, or their parents, but I understand their struggle. The day of role reversal came sooner than we thought, and we feel we're not ready to deal with it. Ready or not, here it is. Just like parenting, we didn't have a manual then, and we don't have one now. It's a learn as we go process, and there will be some set backs. There will be some things we wish we would have done differently, but we just have to forge ahead.
One thing that I have learned in all of this, I need to be a nice person now, because when I get old, I don't want to be a pain in the back side of my three children. It will be hard enough for them to take care of me without me being mean to them. Not that mom or Uncle Huey are being mean to me, but I have seen that in others. I should probably get a hearing aid now, so I can practice talking with my "inside" voice. I don't need to be yelling to the world about all my ailments when I'm 93. I don't need them yelling back at me that I can't drive the car anymore. It might be best if I continue to observe others who are caring for loved ones, and I can learn from them what I should, or should not be doing. In the mean time, I have learned to walk in front of Uncle Huey and his run away walker.
Cretia
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
I've Lost My Funny Bone
I can usually find the humor in every situation, but today my funny bone seems to be misplaced. Yesterday when I got online to check my bank balance, I discovered a charge that shouldn't be, I was frustrated, but thought it was fixable. While on the phone with the bank, my cell phone died. There was just enough life left in it to ring a couple of times and then it died. I saw that it was Jacob calling me, so I asked Julie to call him back. As I was saying this to Julie, her cell phone rang. It was Jacob. He needed to tell me that he had been in an accident. Great! Here I am with Sarah, Julie, two nurses aides, Uncle Huey, and the bed he is occupying. We are all jammed into an elevator on the way to fourth floor, which will be Uncle Hueys abode for a couple of days.
I talk to Jacob, make sure he is okay, then decide to call Aunt Mary to see if she will go help Jacob. I had to use Julie's cell phone, which is a Blackberry Bold. Just saying that makes me think it ought to be an incredible phone, a phone with super powers even. It might actually be that incredible of a phone, it might even have super powers, but I will never know. I can't see the numbers or the letters on the keyboard, and it doesn't matter how many times Julie tells me that the keyboard on this incredible phone are just like the keyboard on my computer, I still want to throw the phone across the room. The letters and numbers might be placed in the same order as my computer keyboard, but they are so tiny that one, I can't see them, and two, my fingers aren't that small.
It takes me ten minutes just to find the number side of the keyboard, and then I can't squint enough to see the numbers once I've located them. I also can't stretch my arm out far enough to bring the miniature keyboard into focus. It's easier just to have Julie call Aunt Mary, and then she can just keep answering the phone for updates. It's not that I wasn't heart sick about Jacob being in the wreck. I was, and I wanted to just snap my fingers and my Nimbus 2000 broom and my invisibility cloak would appear, and I would be off to Edgewood in a flash. Life, at least my life, doesn't happen that way. I was at the hospital with Uncle Huey, and I had to be there for a while longer. It's a good thing I am WOMAN. I was able to listen to Julie's side of the conversation with Aunt Mary, while listening to the nurse brief me on Uncle Huey's condition. I might not be able to physically be in two places at once, I might not have a Nimbus 2000 broom to fly on, and I might not have an invisibility cloak, but when my hearing works, I can multi-listen.
I managed to comprehend all that the nurse had to say, made sure that my phone number and name were on record as the one to be called if Burl couldn't be reached, visit with Uncle Huey, make sure he was comfortable, and at the same time, I knew what was happening at hwy 66 and Pony Express. I was calm, cool and collected....on the outside. Inside I was jumping up and down with frustration, worry, and the need to be two places at once.
This morning I checked my checking account, and wouldn't you know it....someone thought they could use Paul's hard earned money to purchase one hundred and sixty five dollars worth of flowers. Who needs that many flower? They also thought they could use Paul's hard earned money to purchase something from gift gifting, whatever that might be. Paul and I beg to differ. I attempted to call the bank. Now this is where my funny bone was no where to be found. It's not funny when someone else is spending our money, and it's really not funny when Verizons cell phone service is spotty at best, and non-existent at worst. I had already dealt with Verizon's poor service this morning while trying to get an update on Aunt Liz. Dropped the call, call lost, no service, where should I stand in the house to get the phone to work?
I took my purse, my wallet, my checkbook, my phone and sat in the car, because that seemed to be the only place my phone would work. I managed to get the process of fraud investigation under way with the bank, cancel my existing debit card, and then began an hour long process of working with Verizon about our phones. You can't trouble shoot one phone while talking on said phone. Into the house to get Julie and Jacob's phones. The poor Verizon tech. Not only am I technology challenged, I can't see the keyboard on either INCREDIBLE BLACKBERRY phone. She is describing what the key should look like and on which side of the keyboard, and I'm squinting to see this. I even put my glasses on, and still couldn't see. She asked if there happened to be the word SOS in red letters up in the top right hand corner of Jacob's phone. Well, there is something red there, but it looks like 505, which is our area code. She laughed, so I guess she found my funny bone. I sure didn't have it with me. In my defense, the SOS was very, very tiny. It was a very tiny blur, and squinting at the tiny blur didn't make the SOS clear. It was red, I could see that, but it was a blurry red.
My phone will now work all over the house, and so far this afternoon I haven't dropped, or lost one call. Not even any static on the phone while I'm trying to hear what is being said. Jacob's phone is beyond repair, and a new one is being shipped. I can't help but wonder if I had been able to see the SOS sooner, if it would have made a difference for the life of the phone. :)
I hope the bank fraud department can find out who wants to use our money. I also hope the bank is kind enough to let us have our money back, because there are so many others in line who want to use our money. Like Verizon. Even though our service is horrible at the best of times, they still want to be paid for all those dropped calls and no service times. EMW Gas Co. thinks we should pay for the gas we have used. Bank of America thinks we should make our house payment this month. State Farm, who insures the van that is no longer drivable, thinks we should pay for the insurance they have provided all these years. Crooks need to work for a living! That's what the rest of us do. And I'm not laughing! Get your own money!
Cretia
I talk to Jacob, make sure he is okay, then decide to call Aunt Mary to see if she will go help Jacob. I had to use Julie's cell phone, which is a Blackberry Bold. Just saying that makes me think it ought to be an incredible phone, a phone with super powers even. It might actually be that incredible of a phone, it might even have super powers, but I will never know. I can't see the numbers or the letters on the keyboard, and it doesn't matter how many times Julie tells me that the keyboard on this incredible phone are just like the keyboard on my computer, I still want to throw the phone across the room. The letters and numbers might be placed in the same order as my computer keyboard, but they are so tiny that one, I can't see them, and two, my fingers aren't that small.
It takes me ten minutes just to find the number side of the keyboard, and then I can't squint enough to see the numbers once I've located them. I also can't stretch my arm out far enough to bring the miniature keyboard into focus. It's easier just to have Julie call Aunt Mary, and then she can just keep answering the phone for updates. It's not that I wasn't heart sick about Jacob being in the wreck. I was, and I wanted to just snap my fingers and my Nimbus 2000 broom and my invisibility cloak would appear, and I would be off to Edgewood in a flash. Life, at least my life, doesn't happen that way. I was at the hospital with Uncle Huey, and I had to be there for a while longer. It's a good thing I am WOMAN. I was able to listen to Julie's side of the conversation with Aunt Mary, while listening to the nurse brief me on Uncle Huey's condition. I might not be able to physically be in two places at once, I might not have a Nimbus 2000 broom to fly on, and I might not have an invisibility cloak, but when my hearing works, I can multi-listen.
I managed to comprehend all that the nurse had to say, made sure that my phone number and name were on record as the one to be called if Burl couldn't be reached, visit with Uncle Huey, make sure he was comfortable, and at the same time, I knew what was happening at hwy 66 and Pony Express. I was calm, cool and collected....on the outside. Inside I was jumping up and down with frustration, worry, and the need to be two places at once.
This morning I checked my checking account, and wouldn't you know it....someone thought they could use Paul's hard earned money to purchase one hundred and sixty five dollars worth of flowers. Who needs that many flower? They also thought they could use Paul's hard earned money to purchase something from gift gifting, whatever that might be. Paul and I beg to differ. I attempted to call the bank. Now this is where my funny bone was no where to be found. It's not funny when someone else is spending our money, and it's really not funny when Verizons cell phone service is spotty at best, and non-existent at worst. I had already dealt with Verizon's poor service this morning while trying to get an update on Aunt Liz. Dropped the call, call lost, no service, where should I stand in the house to get the phone to work?
I took my purse, my wallet, my checkbook, my phone and sat in the car, because that seemed to be the only place my phone would work. I managed to get the process of fraud investigation under way with the bank, cancel my existing debit card, and then began an hour long process of working with Verizon about our phones. You can't trouble shoot one phone while talking on said phone. Into the house to get Julie and Jacob's phones. The poor Verizon tech. Not only am I technology challenged, I can't see the keyboard on either INCREDIBLE BLACKBERRY phone. She is describing what the key should look like and on which side of the keyboard, and I'm squinting to see this. I even put my glasses on, and still couldn't see. She asked if there happened to be the word SOS in red letters up in the top right hand corner of Jacob's phone. Well, there is something red there, but it looks like 505, which is our area code. She laughed, so I guess she found my funny bone. I sure didn't have it with me. In my defense, the SOS was very, very tiny. It was a very tiny blur, and squinting at the tiny blur didn't make the SOS clear. It was red, I could see that, but it was a blurry red.
My phone will now work all over the house, and so far this afternoon I haven't dropped, or lost one call. Not even any static on the phone while I'm trying to hear what is being said. Jacob's phone is beyond repair, and a new one is being shipped. I can't help but wonder if I had been able to see the SOS sooner, if it would have made a difference for the life of the phone. :)
I hope the bank fraud department can find out who wants to use our money. I also hope the bank is kind enough to let us have our money back, because there are so many others in line who want to use our money. Like Verizon. Even though our service is horrible at the best of times, they still want to be paid for all those dropped calls and no service times. EMW Gas Co. thinks we should pay for the gas we have used. Bank of America thinks we should make our house payment this month. State Farm, who insures the van that is no longer drivable, thinks we should pay for the insurance they have provided all these years. Crooks need to work for a living! That's what the rest of us do. And I'm not laughing! Get your own money!
Cretia
Friday, February 18, 2011
What Did You Say?!!!!
I thought I heard you say something that I'm sure you didn't mean to say. With my hearing loss becoming more and more noticeable, I've been thinking about days gone by when I could hear, and what I heard someone say that was just unbelievable. Those someones were usually my children. Sarah and Julie learned very quickly not to repeat the unbelievable when I asked them, "What did you just say?" Jacob, not such a fast learner, but his sisters clued him in quickly. I remember the day he referred to someone, using a not so nice name. I said, "What did you just say?" So he repeated it for me. Sarah and Julie immediately jumped into the conversation with, "JACOB, when mom asks you that, NEVER repeat what you just said. You are SO in trouble." He didn't have a clue what the name meant, and when I told him, it was immediately funny to him. It was funny, I admit that, but it wasn't nice. Sometimes funny isn't nice, but it's still funny. I admit that my kids could make me laugh, when I needed to be stern.
When the kids were little, we often called Sarah, "Bossy Boots". Rightfully so, since she was the oldest, she knew more than her younger siblings, and she needed to boss them. My mom was in the beginnings of her hearing loss time in life, so she often heard them say things that they really didn't say. Jacob was about three years old at the time, and he was slightly irritated with Sarah. In his state of irritation and frustration, he called her Bossy Boots. Mom heard him call her Bossy Boobs. When I got home from work to pick up the kids, she said that we needed to have a talk with Jacob about respecting his sisters. It really isn't nice to call Sarah Bossy Boobs, and where in the world would he get that from anyway? She was so upset. She was in such a snit over the whole thing. It didn't help that I immediately started laughing. Poor Mom, her lot in life to have me for a daughter has been such a trial.
What I heard and what you said are often not the same. But you need to listen to the tone of my question when I ask what you said. If I just ask, "What did you say?", it means I really didn't hear you. If I say, "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?", it means you might want to rephrase your answer.
Cretia
When the kids were little, we often called Sarah, "Bossy Boots". Rightfully so, since she was the oldest, she knew more than her younger siblings, and she needed to boss them. My mom was in the beginnings of her hearing loss time in life, so she often heard them say things that they really didn't say. Jacob was about three years old at the time, and he was slightly irritated with Sarah. In his state of irritation and frustration, he called her Bossy Boots. Mom heard him call her Bossy Boobs. When I got home from work to pick up the kids, she said that we needed to have a talk with Jacob about respecting his sisters. It really isn't nice to call Sarah Bossy Boobs, and where in the world would he get that from anyway? She was so upset. She was in such a snit over the whole thing. It didn't help that I immediately started laughing. Poor Mom, her lot in life to have me for a daughter has been such a trial.
What I heard and what you said are often not the same. But you need to listen to the tone of my question when I ask what you said. If I just ask, "What did you say?", it means I really didn't hear you. If I say, "WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?", it means you might want to rephrase your answer.
Cretia
Monday, February 14, 2011
Math: A Word Problem
I must say that Life is a Word Problem, and I was never good at Math or Word Problems, therefore I struggle with life, which is just one big Word Problem. I quit school half way through my junior year. I have lots of reasons for quitting school, one of those reasons being....WORD PROBLEMS that haunted me from day one, and the never ending class of General Math.
I hated school from the first day of first grade. The only redeeming factor about first grade was my teachers last name. Her name was Mrs. Nestle, which reminded me of chocolate, which I happen to love, even back then. And like chocolate, she was very sweet. I cried every day at school, and she was very sweet to me. Mrs. Dennison, my second grade teacher was not sweet, she was even more bitter than bitter-sweet chocolate. I didn't like her, and I cried every day in her class too. Mrs. Ensminger was the sweetest of the sweet, and I cried every day in her class too. Mrs. Murphy, she was just flat out mean, and I was too afraid to cry in her class, so I toughened up in fourth grade and didn't cry anymore.
Then along came high school. The days that I showed up were just awful. General Math awaited me. Word problems were meant to torture those of us less fortunate than the brainiac kids. Coach Hewitt didn't like me when I first arrived in his class my freshman year, and he liked me even less when I appeared again my sophomore year, and he really didn't like me the first half of my junior year. Not only was a math idiot, I was not of cheerleader quality. I was doomed, and I was taking him along with me into doomnation.
Some nightmares continue to show up in our lives, and math, accompanied by word problems are stuff that nightmares are made of. At least for me they are. Just tell me the numbers involved in the equation and let me go from there. I don't think the alphabet, or words should be involved in math equations. I don't even care how fast the train was going, and I care even less what time it arrived at the station, at the speed it was going. And PLEASE don't throw in useless information to confuse me more. It doesn't matter what color the train was. Just give me the schedule for the train, and I will be at the station to meet it.
Last night I was visiting with a friend, and she was telling me about a fund raiser that her daughter was having at school. For some reason unknown to me, I decided to tell her what the profit would be for this fund raiser. What in the world was wrong with me? For me to do this, I had to create a word problem that involved numbers, and words, and useless facts, like that all the roses were red. I don't know what possessed me. She didn't even ask me if I knew, or even if I cared what their profit would be. BUT, I jumped on that train that was speeding to the station, at the speed of what, I did not know, and I will never know, because I don't care. I created the following word problem all on my own, and still got the wrong answer.
A group of students had a fund raising project. They purchased a dozen roses, and paid fifteen dollars for the dozen. They sold each red rose for two dollars a piece. What was their profit?
My answer to that question, that was never asked, and I should never have offered an answer to, was that they made a profit of fifteen dollars.
You do not want to know how I arrived at that brilliant answer, and because you do not want to know, I am not going to tell you. Create your own word problem, and figure it out for yourself.
I hated school from the first day of first grade. The only redeeming factor about first grade was my teachers last name. Her name was Mrs. Nestle, which reminded me of chocolate, which I happen to love, even back then. And like chocolate, she was very sweet. I cried every day at school, and she was very sweet to me. Mrs. Dennison, my second grade teacher was not sweet, she was even more bitter than bitter-sweet chocolate. I didn't like her, and I cried every day in her class too. Mrs. Ensminger was the sweetest of the sweet, and I cried every day in her class too. Mrs. Murphy, she was just flat out mean, and I was too afraid to cry in her class, so I toughened up in fourth grade and didn't cry anymore.
Then along came high school. The days that I showed up were just awful. General Math awaited me. Word problems were meant to torture those of us less fortunate than the brainiac kids. Coach Hewitt didn't like me when I first arrived in his class my freshman year, and he liked me even less when I appeared again my sophomore year, and he really didn't like me the first half of my junior year. Not only was a math idiot, I was not of cheerleader quality. I was doomed, and I was taking him along with me into doomnation.
Some nightmares continue to show up in our lives, and math, accompanied by word problems are stuff that nightmares are made of. At least for me they are. Just tell me the numbers involved in the equation and let me go from there. I don't think the alphabet, or words should be involved in math equations. I don't even care how fast the train was going, and I care even less what time it arrived at the station, at the speed it was going. And PLEASE don't throw in useless information to confuse me more. It doesn't matter what color the train was. Just give me the schedule for the train, and I will be at the station to meet it.
Last night I was visiting with a friend, and she was telling me about a fund raiser that her daughter was having at school. For some reason unknown to me, I decided to tell her what the profit would be for this fund raiser. What in the world was wrong with me? For me to do this, I had to create a word problem that involved numbers, and words, and useless facts, like that all the roses were red. I don't know what possessed me. She didn't even ask me if I knew, or even if I cared what their profit would be. BUT, I jumped on that train that was speeding to the station, at the speed of what, I did not know, and I will never know, because I don't care. I created the following word problem all on my own, and still got the wrong answer.
A group of students had a fund raising project. They purchased a dozen roses, and paid fifteen dollars for the dozen. They sold each red rose for two dollars a piece. What was their profit?
My answer to that question, that was never asked, and I should never have offered an answer to, was that they made a profit of fifteen dollars.
You do not want to know how I arrived at that brilliant answer, and because you do not want to know, I am not going to tell you. Create your own word problem, and figure it out for yourself.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Will You Marry Me?
Today I was remembering that in February of 1988, Paul asked me to marry him. He wanted to get married in March, and I said March was too windy of a month to get married, how about April. On April 8, 1988 we were married. We had hurricane force winds that day. Shows you what I know about the weather!
Today I was reading the Independent newspaper and they had some love poems to read. I came across a poem that I had kept in my wallet for years. Don't have a clue what happened to it, but I put it in my wallet soon after Paul asked me to marry him. I loved it then, because it made me laugh, and I love it now, because it makes me laugh. Love does funny things to a person. Read on.......
"I climbed up the door and opened the stairs,
Said my pajamas and put on my prayers,
Then I turned off the bed and crawled into the light
All because you kissed me goodnight~!"
Author Unknown
Happy Valentine Day!
Today I was reading the Independent newspaper and they had some love poems to read. I came across a poem that I had kept in my wallet for years. Don't have a clue what happened to it, but I put it in my wallet soon after Paul asked me to marry him. I loved it then, because it made me laugh, and I love it now, because it makes me laugh. Love does funny things to a person. Read on.......
"I climbed up the door and opened the stairs,
Said my pajamas and put on my prayers,
Then I turned off the bed and crawled into the light
All because you kissed me goodnight~!"
Author Unknown
Happy Valentine Day!
Friday, January 28, 2011
Why Did I Do That
I am often amused/amazed at the stupid stuff I do, and I do more and more stupid things as the days go by. Just stupid stuff, like putting the milk in the cupboard, the laundry soap in the frig, getting up from my desk to go do something, only to forget what it was, but while I'm in the room that I don't know why I'm there, I might as well change the sheets. Never mind that I just changed them the day before. Stupid stuff!
This evening I received a very funny email from the daughter of one of my cousins. She who must not be named. I'm not naming her, because I don't have her permission to tell the story, but it needs to be told, so she remains nameless to you. She also doesn't have Facebook, so not only will she be nameless in this story, she will be clueless that it was written. That works well for me, and for her.
The daughter is in the kitchen cooking the meal, which I think was breakfast. Can't remember which meal, doesn't really matter. My cousin rushes into the kitchen and starts pushing buttons on the microwave. Not just a couple, but enough buttons are being pushed that it would seem she is going to cook Thanksgiving dinner in the microwave. Her daughter is watching all of this and wondering what in the world her mother is doing. She finally decided she might should ask.
"Mom! What are you going to cook that requires that many minutes?" Her mom, without missing a beat, or in this case, a number, replies, "I'm calling the bank to get my checking account balance."
Stupid stuff, brought on by too much on our minds, too much stress, too many irons in the fire, too many cooks in the kitchen, too many numbers to dial to reach the bank. It makes perfect sense to me. No wonder I've been having so much trouble with dropped calls lately. I've been using the microwave. Now, why is the microwave on with no food in it? WHO TURNED THE MICROWAVE ON?
This evening I received a very funny email from the daughter of one of my cousins. She who must not be named. I'm not naming her, because I don't have her permission to tell the story, but it needs to be told, so she remains nameless to you. She also doesn't have Facebook, so not only will she be nameless in this story, she will be clueless that it was written. That works well for me, and for her.
The daughter is in the kitchen cooking the meal, which I think was breakfast. Can't remember which meal, doesn't really matter. My cousin rushes into the kitchen and starts pushing buttons on the microwave. Not just a couple, but enough buttons are being pushed that it would seem she is going to cook Thanksgiving dinner in the microwave. Her daughter is watching all of this and wondering what in the world her mother is doing. She finally decided she might should ask.
"Mom! What are you going to cook that requires that many minutes?" Her mom, without missing a beat, or in this case, a number, replies, "I'm calling the bank to get my checking account balance."
Stupid stuff, brought on by too much on our minds, too much stress, too many irons in the fire, too many cooks in the kitchen, too many numbers to dial to reach the bank. It makes perfect sense to me. No wonder I've been having so much trouble with dropped calls lately. I've been using the microwave. Now, why is the microwave on with no food in it? WHO TURNED THE MICROWAVE ON?
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