May I Speak to Someone With a Penis?

In our deck renovation/expansion project, a main obstacle/goal is getting our 600-lb hot tub on the deck, from it's current resting spot underneath our deck. I took Wiener Dog outside earlier and Kenfullofshit was out there so I talked to him a bit, and in the conversation the subject of exactly how he planned to get that hot tub up a flight of stairs was broached. He doesn't know how he's going to do it. I told him that I would call the spa store and ask the guy who does the deliveries and setup so I came inside to do that. A young chick chewing gum answered the phone and insisted that she was an expert on moving and deliveries so I humored her and asked just how we would go about getting the hot tub up the deck and she said "A um, you know, the machine that pokes underneath and lifts up, a forklift thingy?".

I felt like saying, "Thank you for your expert knowledge. May I now speak to someone who has a penis and who has actually moved a hot tub up to a deck?". Instead I just thanked her and emailed Fidel to call someone himself.

Ungrateful Whore

Last Saturday, my annoying ass neighbor asked me to babysit her kid for an hour while she went to spinning class on Sunday morning. I did it, and she was gone three hours for a 45 minute class. This week she asked me again and I said I had planned on sleeping in. She kept pressing and pressing so I sighed and said, "I guess I can get up" and she said that she would be back earlier than last week. Two and a half hours after she dropped an unfed 6-year old off at my curb, she called to tell me her husband wanted her to come pick him up from the hotel that he had been living at since the po-po hauled him away from their house earlier in the week, and wanted to know if I thought she should take her son with her or just wait to pick him up. I said "I don't care what you do, but you need to come get your child because I was supposed to be keeping him for ONE hour and I have things planned today".

Can you imagine the size of her balls for taking blatant advantage of someone like that? Her ass can hire a sitter next week because I'm over being nice and doing favors for her.

Can I Get a What What?

Today was day one of our deck construction. It was supposed to be day 4 if not the end day but given that we were given the runaround by Fidel's chosen contractors before we even signed the contract, I'm not all that shocked.

The construction company owner, Kenfullofshit, sat at my kitchen table and boasted how they did debris removal at the end of each work day, complete with dragging a long magnet thing across the lawn to remove any stray nails. Apparently the guy in charge of paying attention to detail had other plans for today because not only do I have a yard full of lumber remnants, but I have a yard full of lumber remnants, soft drink boxes, empty water bottles and 4-inch nails by the dozen. Additonally, there is no flashing between the house and the deck structure so you can look for us on the news in about 10 years. We will be easy to find, just look for the headlines that scream, "Massive Deck Collapse in North Atlanta Area". Hopefully the word fatality won't be included and you will just see us laying on the ground holding our beers upright and smiling because we managed not to spill.

Nice Going, Dad

This morning, Tootie was on our couch laying beside the Wiener Dog on a soft, cozy throw that we all love. Wiener Dog likes to bite a little nip of the blanket and suck on it like it's her Wiener Dog mom and Fidel always yells at her about it while I let her get away with it. I mean, I have a 4-yo who reads but still sucks her thumb so I'm obviously not one to make anything grow up too fast.

Anyway, Tootie and Wiener Dog are cuddling and I hear Tootie say, "If I see your teef on that blanket I'll beat the Hell out of you Wiener Dog". She totally learned that from her dad.

Not to Be Ugly

Have you ever noticed that the words "Not to be ugly" always precedes something that is actually very ugly? I should probably replace that entire phrase in my vocabulary with the words "I'm about to say something you will want to slap me for" because honestly, that would be a lot more accurate.

Anyway, before I digress into the idiosyncrasies of slightly imbalanced Southern women, I'll just say that there is one building product that I hate with a passion, and that is diagonal lattice. I see it all over and I'm not judging anyone that has it, but it is not something that I personally want to wake up to every morning. I don't cringe when I visit someone with diagonal lattice, I barely notice it, but I just cannot lay in my bed knowing that there's diagonal lattice on my deck. Yes, it's shallow, ridiculous and just a bit neurotic but it ain't. happening. here. Uh-uh.

I told Fidel that I wasn't having it, to not even suggest it and to let his contractor know. Lo and behold, what do you think is sitting on top of the pile of lumber that was just dropped in our driveway for the deck construction. Diagonal fucking lattice.

Dysfunction Junction

Dysfunction Junction is officially back in business. We live in a cul-de-sac with 3 other families. One just moved in, one is normal and the other two have various issues that the police like to call domestic situations. Just this morning at 6 am, the cul-de-sac was filled with police cars and an ambulance. The wife of that family is trying to have the husband committed for being mentally ill. That fucker is indeed crazy as can be but he's very intelligent and is able to talk his way out of being taken away. The wife is not American and while she speaks English pretty well, she has trouble expressing herself when she gets upset. In my opinion there's no cut and dry "bad guy" in this situation, just two people who need to divorce and never look back. Unfortunately the person suffering through this circus is their 6-year old kid.

We get along really well with the family that just moved in next door, between us and the crazies. We have paid our contractors to expand our deck and they will be starting any time now. Well someone was blocking the neighbors driveway and she called with some attitude to say "Your contractors are blocking my driveway" but it was actually their cable company burying the cable from the curb to their basement. Fidel took that call and wasn't very pleased. I was still in bed and that call woke me up so obviously I'm not too happy about it, either.

Let's all hope that the rest of the day brings more funny and less neighborhood fuckery. My Evil Uterus and the Ovaries of Doom are acting up so I'm not very optimistic.

Retrospective Mama - The Last Fifteen Years

I was tagged with this meme by my much cooler long-lost twin, Lotta. I don't know the actual etiquette of this whole meme thing but I'm faking the funk here and hoping I do it right. Anyone who reads MF knows that I screw up an awful lot so don't expect too much from me.

The directions: "Think back on the last 15 years of your life. How would you summarize your life in just 10 bullet points."

I had to pull up Excel to list the years and my age each year because when you have CRS your shit just blends together.

Let's step back to 1994 when life was easy, filled with thumping bass and recreational drugs.

1993 - 19, cute and making great money. I met what I thought was "The One".

1994 - Lived double life as a 20-year old during the day, becoming a 23-year old named "Mary Fink" when it was time to hit the clubs.

1995 - Turned 21 and left "Mary Fink" behind when I could use my own license.

1996 -Turned 22 and joined the Army to get me away from "The One" and party friends/lifestyle.

1997 - Married Fidel after dating for 79 days.

1998 - Moved from Honolulu to Atlanta.

1999 - Bought our first house.

2000 - Went on a few long trips with Fidel, on the back of his motorcycle. Discovered that I was way too prissy to be a biker bitch.

2001 - Impregnated with Tootie.

2002 - Tootie was born. Bought our second house.

2003 - Discovered being bald down there. Shortly thereafter pregnant with Moggie.

2004 - Moggie was born and I became a SAHM and ended up addicted to the internet when I was chained to a chair rocking the world's crankiest baby in a bouncy seat.

2005 - Still dealing with the world's crankiest baby, don't remember much.

2006 - Bought our third house. Took first cruise.

2007 - Tootie started Kindergarten. Mama Fidel was created.

*"The One" was in no way The One for me. It's just funny because I thought I was in love and it turns out after I married my Fidel that it wasn't the case at all.

I'm not sure who to tag, so the first five people who are interested in strolling down memory lane, knock yourselves out!

Green With Envy

I am normally not a jealous person but I'm as green as a watermelon with envy at the moment.

Remember my friend Chrissy who I gifted with a bottle of Grey Goose inscribed with the words "Congratulations, Whore"? That whore has been whisked away to Paris by her husband in celebration of their 10 year anniversary. I know poor Fidel is hating to come home to hear me groan about not going to Paris. If he were to surprise me with a trip, that's the one I would want. We got married in Hawaii so I'd love to go back there for nostalgia but I would love to go to Paris with him.

I hope that whore brings me back something.

Ha

This morning, Fidel sent me an email that said:

Here is the guy that is supposed to be coming by to help with the deck starting today, once he gets free from his current obligation:

[removed actual link to confuse stalkers]

Just wanted you to know who to be looking out for.

The link went to the man in the photo.

Miss Me?

Sorry I've been slacking in the blogging department here lately. I got the painting itch last week and I ended up painting my dining room while Fidel was out of town. I like to do my stuff when he's out of town because he can't stand there and tell me the 500 things I'm doing wrong (his opinion, there's more than one way to skin a cat). My dining room went from a strange, deep red to a comfortable goldish-tan. I haven't yet heard a "Thank you for busting your ass to paint this room all alone while keeping the children from burning down the house or robbing a bank" but that's the story of my life. Sometimes it pays to be slightly crazy and very forgetful because I just don't have the capacity in my brain to store the need for affirmation.

This week holds more exciting home decorating events because I pick up my new (used a time or two) sewing machine from a friend's house. Then it's off to Frugal Fabrics to get swatches and some clearance fabric so that I can teach myself how to sew. This should be pretty interesting and more than a little scary.

The girls and I are going to Dollywood later this week and we should be coming home to a brand new deck. The contractor was by here yesterday reworking the plans a smidge and he said we should have the contract to review today and he could start tomorrow if all is well with that. We are planning a big 4th of July hootenanny to break in the new deck.

Our new neighbors moved in last week and they are pretty awesome. They have a little girl entering kindergarten this year which is just perfect since I have a first grader and a pre-k myself. They play really well together and they have already asked the girls to come over to their house which is wonderful since I have the other neighbor kid over here all the time and they haven't once been asked over to his house.

That's about it for me. Well not really, I have lots of other crap going on like filing three dogs' nails with a Dremel tool and shaving one that's too shaggy for summer. I'll take pictures if I discover the location of my camera while I'm buzzing around cleaning on my coffee high.

Wiener Dog Love

Here is my sweet girl. She has been busy patrolling our yard and keeping invaders out. And being pretty.

She is Tootie's best friend.

Don't You Wish You Were My Friend?

I spoke below about buying my friend Chrissy a housewarming gift. I got her a pretty monogrammed cheese plate with a monogrammed server. I also stopped at the liquor store and got her a bottle of Grey Goose. I left it in the brown paper bag and grabbed a ballpoint pen out of my console and scribbled, "Congratulations, Whore" on it and she loved it. Then we went outside and pulled weeds out of her flower beds in bare feet.

I Need This

I was in a gift store today looking for housewarming gifts for our new next-door neighbors and my friend, Chrissy. I found some cute stuff but while on my search I saw this book with a snazzy little cover and it was titled: Any Bitch Can Cook. I didn't care what was inside of it, I just wanted it to sit on my kitchen bookshelf for all to see. I've since discovered that the book has a great companion titled: Any Bitch Can Drink. I think that is the book I would have written if I was a real writer. I've actually been doing more writing than drinking here lately and I can't even truthfully call myself a boozehound any more. I normally drink like a fish in the heat of summer but it seems like there's always something going on or I'm just too tired to squeeze lemons and limes. And using bottled juice may seem like a good idea but if you are too lazy to squeeze you just don't need to drink.

Eau de Crazy

Can you smell it from there?

Fidel is in Charleston for the week, on a trip that I was supposed to be on. My plans were trampled by a stampede of issues so I'm here, at home. And the home improvement bug has bitten me, leaving me helpless to resist the fresh scent of latex paint.

My problem child is my dining room. It is painted a deep red and Fidel and my best friend/realtor (MomZ) lobbied me to have the builder repaint it but my happy pills make me very amenable so I decided to give the red room a chance. I've given it two years and it hasn't grown on me yet so it's time for a change. To a camel color.

The last time I got crazy and decided to paint, my kitchen ended up orange as a pumpkin when it should have been a wheatish-yellow color. Let's all hope I escape the horror of paint gone wrong this time.

You Are Cordially Invited

Free HIV testing

[Redacted] County Parks, Recreation and Tourism Department and [redacted] will offer free HIV testing from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Saturday, June 28, at [re- oh you know the drill by now], South Carolina Highway [blah], [name of actual town withheld to shield residents from embarrassment on the likely erroneous assumption that any of them have dignity].

There will be free food and music at the event, and prizes will be given to everyone who is tested.

This is an actual news item from the town where I was raised. A very small town with one stoplight. Everyone knows everyone and everything about everyone. You can't fart and escape notice there. So they are throwing a party complete with prizes and food for getting HIV tests.

I'm not making light of needing HIV testing because I've lived there and there's not much to do besides go parking and drink and that does lead to some regrettable sex. I just see disaster on the horizon with the "trick-them-test-them" type parties that will just bring those who know they've been loose with the goods out into the daylight and serve as a sort of Skank Mixer. This will be a whole different take on the Playas and Hos party.

Rethinking the Whole JW Thing

Now that I have been pestered by endless conversation and aggravation since 7:30 am, I'm willing to whore myself out to the first religion that can provide me with some quiet meditation time. No snake dancing, loud talking or music, just quiet alone time in a nice cool clean room. Maybe with some nice soft music or sounds of nature. Just not wild nature children because I already have those. They buzz around me constantly like flies on a turd. Every time I look I can catch one stealing a sip of my drink or a bite of my food and the noise that comes out of their mouths knows no limits.

Actually a good compromise would be to tell the JWs that I've already been expelled (shunned? Is that what they call it?) but that my children are eager to ring doorbells and distribute pamphlets and all they require in compensation is a jug of apple juice and a box of nasty crap fruit snacks. I look at this as a win-win situation. The girls are already accustomed to being told to get the fuck off of the porch and stop ringing the gd doorbell so a little polite rejection will be no skin off of their backs. They'll just ring it again and ask for some ice cream or perhaps a stick of sidewalk chalk. I'll be willing to cough up $25 a week for a free Saturday and Sunday morning.

I Don't Speak JW

I was raised to be polite but sometimes my raising just flies out the window. When, you ask? To be specific, Saturday, June 14, 2008 at approximately 10:30 am.

I was outside with Wiener Dog waiting on her to potty. I noticed two older ladies in frumpy clothing walking down the street carrying Bibles and a stack of pamphlets. I got the WD back inside and then I made a sign that said, "No Soliciting, Please! Thank you" and taped it on the front door. Apparently a No Soliciting sign isn't a good deterrent for the JW's because they still rang my doorbell, interrupted me from cleaning my kitchen and got my three dogs worked up into a frenzy. I cracked the glass door to say "No thank you" and the woman all but barged into my foyer. I'm pushing the door back against her so that my dogs don't get out and I got annoyed and said, "NO THANK YOU, please read the sign" and she said "Oh we aren't soliciting". I did one more "No thank you" and pushed the door closed and locked it.

Fidel was laughing at all this and I said, "Well I guess the Grand Poobah will be down to see us regarding this incident" and he said that I should have made my sign to say "No Jesus Freaks". I responded that their argument would be that they are actually Jehovah freaks so that sign didn't apply to them either.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: You cannot let these fuckers down easy. They won't take a polite No Thank You. You pretty much have to either take their pamphlet and listen to the spiel or spray them with the garden hose and scream "Get the fuck off of my porch". It's like a blind date gone bad with these JWs. It's just Multi Level Marketing hiding behind a tax shelter and my ass isn't getting suckered by Amway or the JWs.

Father's Day French Toast

Fidel and I love Alton Brown. Below is the best french toast recipe you could hope for, just in time for Father's Day. This dish is a Father's Day tradition around here. I make the batter the night before (double batch) and let it sit in the fridge overnight, and I top mine with whipped cream and strawberries while Fidel prefers syrup.

Alton Brown's French Toast, via Food Network

1 cup half-and-half
3 large eggs
2 tablespoons honey, warmed in microwave for 20 seconds
1/4 teaspoon salt
8 (1/2-inch) slices day-old or stale country loaf, brioche or challah bread
4 tablespoons butter

In medium size mixing bowl, whisk together the half-and-half, eggs, honey, and salt. You may do this the night before. When ready to cook, pour custard mixture into a pie pan and set aside.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Dip bread into mixture, allow to soak for 30 seconds on each side, and then remove to a cooling rack that is sitting in a sheet pan, and allow to sit for 1 to 2 minutes.

Over medium-low heat, melt 1 tablespoon of butter in a 10-inch nonstick saute pan. Place 2 slices of bread at a time into the pan and cook until golden brown, approximately 2 to 3 minutes per side. Remove from pan and place on rack in oven for 5 minutes. Repeat with all 8 slices. Serve immediately with maple syrup, whipped cream or fruit.

You Might be a Redneck

On my way to the Wal-Mart to buy enough tampons to plug a dam, I noticed a sign in front of a construction site in the parking lot. It took me a minute to recognize the logo and once I did, it just made my day. We are getting a Hardee's. And a Starbucks, all right there in the Wal-Mart parking lot. What more could you ask for? It's like I've died and gone to bourgie redneck heaven. I never dreamed that I'd have the chance to have a Country Ham Biscuit with a $4 cup of coffee without driving for miles and miles.

Television Quandry

Watching the Discovery Channel can be a crapshoot sometimes. I typically try to make sure I'm not eating anything because more than likely you will get a face full of crap like Bear Grylls sucking the blood out of some poor animal and spending the next 45 minutes looking like the world's sloppiest vampire. Other times, you get to watch that hot piece Mike Rowe on Dirty Jobs. I think an idea for a great show would be to assign Mike Rowe to accompany Bear Grylls on one of his little nutjob missions just for the sole purpose of keeping him from having a face smeared with blood or from drinking his own piss.

Can You Forget the Heat?

I talked to Daddy last night and he was telling me that it's over 100 degrees there. I asked how my grandparents were taking the heat and that was the wrong question to ask. Apparently my senile grandmother will not stop turning the A/C off and opening up the house. They live in an old Southern house with plenty of cross-ventilation but if it's over 100 degrees cross-ventilation isn't worth shit except for baking both sides of you at once. She's also throwing out dinner as fast as you can get it on the table. She will let food rot in the fridge but anything fresh will get thrown straight into the trash if you don't catch her before she grabs it. Daddy barbecued them a rack of ribs and she threw them right out and he just had to leave before he killed her.

Waste of Time

I have been working my ass off this week (figuratively, unfortunately) to get shit ready for this morning's yard sale and it was a complete. fucking. BUST. I even woke up before 7 am and wore real clothes and shoes. I could have laid my ass in bed and threw up a few Craigslist ads before noon and accomplished the same thing. I didn't even get to argue with anyone and I live for yard sale arguments. I was gearing up for a good one when this guy was looking like he wanted to bargain me down on an item that I had priced for one dollar. I think he saw the spark in my eyes and figured he'd better give me a damn dollar and beat feet out of my driveway.

I took my camera outside, took pictures and posted the big items on Craigslist and I've already sold a lot of it. I swear, if I ever even consider having another yard sale (oh I will, trust me) I hope someone talks some sense into me.

On the bright side, I did get the girls' playroom cleaned up and organized. And I met the cutest little chihuahua named Tinker Bell. My dog, Buddy, fell in love with her.

WTF Was I Thinking?

This morning, the air was running constantly. It as as hot as Hades here in Georgia today. Times are hard (not specifically for us but it pays to be prepared and save every dime, right?) so I've been on a conservation streak and decided to bump the air up to 78 from the 75 it's normally on. Three degrees doesn't sound like a lot but I'm sweating like a bo hog.

Hopefully all this toiling and manual labor combined with the wicked heat will tire me out and let me sleep in peace, far away from Topiary Bear tonight.

What do you know, it's Beer-Thirty! Time for a break and a cold, refreshing Bud Lite.

Deliberate Procrastination

Do you ever procrastinate and end up the better for doing it? Happens to me all the time. Case in point- I have been eying a comforter set for my master bedroom for ages. It's been on sale here and there, and I've always waited. (Waited means I forgot about it. Happens often.) Lo and behold, I was avoiding yard sale preparation yesterday and I found my set, on FINAL CLEARANCE. Have you heard two more beautiful words? I couldn't buy a damaged Garden Ridge polyester confection for what I spent at Dillard's on this beauty. It matches my bedroom perfectly. I'll even take pictures after I get it put on the bed so you can see where Topiary Bear torments me.

Swingtown

Did you guys watch this show last night? Fidel and I did and it was cute in a kind of skeezy Jesus-I-hope-my-parents-didn't-do-this way. I must admit the opening scene in the cockpit of the plane, seeing the back of a blonde head bobbing up and down on a pilot's lap shocked me. I was like, "Wow, they are testing their limits for what you can show on tv!" but it was just an older flight attendant blotting a stain out of the pilot's shirt. I'm a Grant Show fan and he pulled off his role perfectly.

My favorite line was "Take your shoes off and join the party, Mama!".

Benadryl Side Effects

I suffer horribly from allergies and I've been taking a Benadryl each night at bedtime to help me out a little. One night this week I took two Benadryls, my happy pill and a Zyrtec. Apparently this combination is a little powerful because I had the craziest dream of being mauled and chased by strange bears. These bears were at a nature retreat in my native South Carolina that was supposed to showcase the native animals in their natural environment. You hiked to the preserve and camped in these bunkhouse-type lodgings. It was obvious to me, even in my sleep, that I was dreaming because there wasn't a bar to be found and I don't vacation sans alcohol, nor do I do the whole nature thing, but nonetheless I was there, at the nature preserve.

Unfortunately, and contrary to my limited knowledge of South Carolina wildlife, there were strange bears in this preserve. There was an orange one, a blue one and a green one. The green one was not only a bear, it was a topiary bear. That moved just as a living bear would move, because it was a real living bear made of boxwood. It must have smelled the skepticism on me because it tried to eat me repeatedly. At one point I had climbed a set of bunk beds and leapt to a hanging light fixture and topiary bear was still down there pawing at me and licking his leafy chops while I called for some Round-Up to take care of his ass.

I finally got rescued and was promptly escorted to the path out of the preserve by the rangers. I looked back and they were coddling and petting topiary bear like he had been the victim in the whole debacle. I was all indignant about that shit but I hiked on back down out of the preserve. Even in my dreams I have the good sense to know when to bow out.

Just DAMN

The thrill is gone from my swing purchase for the moment. My hands are covered in blisters. Apparently homeboy's storage was near/in/covered in poison oak. Now my hands are covered in tiny little blisters that itch and burn. I eat Benadryl like candy so hopefully that will keep the irritation down to a minimum.

Not an Axe Murderer

I found my swing on Craigslist yesterday and I ended up going to the guy's house to pick it up this morning. I am normally extremely dubious of Craigslist folks because something makes me think that they are all axe murders trying to lure unsuspecting housewives to an untimely end in a dark basement somewhere. Thankfully, the guy selling my swing was a school teacher and seemed perfectly normal. So much so that I invited him to my home.

Actually, the swing wouldn't fit in my Jeep and the guy was nice enough to drive it down for me. I knew the yard next door would be full of construction workers ready to free me from the jaws of certain peril if anything fishy happened.

Now that I've escaped being hacked to bits, I have the bigger challenge of getting Fidel to hang my swing for me. I may have to hire an axe murderer from the Labor section of CL.

Dear Leapster L-Maxes

Sweetest digital babysitters, please forgive me for allowing the two of you to be buried in a pile of toys in the girls' playroom. Forgive me, especially, for contemplating placing you two in the garage sale pile. I thought that you had joined the multitude of outgrown and unloved toys, but you had merely been misplaced and forgotten. I shall shine your exterior with a Clorox wipe and provide you with fresh batteries. I'll get around to ordering you a new stylus pen today, Red One.

The two of you have gifted me with many hours of silence from the children. Just this morning I was able to sleep until 9:30 because the children never left their rooms. They sat playing you without a peep. Viva L-Max!

Come to Mama!

When we sold our last house in October 2006, the buyers wanted us to leave our beloved swing in the backyard. Fidel had built a gorgeous pergola thing for it to hang from and it just belonged in the yard. I was shocked that the buyers wanted it because it looked a little bit beat, or at least the cushion did. The faux wicker, however, was in wonderful shape and the swing just angled perfectly. Sitting in that swing was like coming home to freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. Heaven.

While dicking around on Craigslist this morning, I found this and heard the angels sing. I got all kinds of excited and called the guy and by the grace of God no one had bought this wonderful swing yet. Now, she is mine. I'm getting her tomorrow. Since we are currently shopping contractors for redoing our deck I'm not sure when it will be hung up but at least I'll have her in the basement when we are ready.

I knew there was a reason I had procrastinated on buying a new swing for nearly two years and here she is. She is a diamond in the rough.

Mountain Dew Wishes and Cheeto Dreams

Fidel and I traded my mommymobile van on a Jeep in January. We did that because 1) I was over the whole van deal and 2) we want to get a travel trailer to be able to bum around the southeast. We are so freaking low-rent that the idea of a fun weekend to us is pulling a travel trailer to Pigeon Forge to hit Dollywood. Or Gulf Shores, Alabama.

We aspire to be middle-class rednecks, though. No pop-ups or "outside showers" for this family.

Letters from Home

Do people write letters anymore? I now refer to emails as letters because that's all I get.

My stepmother (a great stepmother) emailed me this morning that my dad has bought my grandparents a car to tool around in. To refresh your memory, my grandmother is completely senile and my grandfather is a little impaired after his stroke. He has days where he thinks that he's a young man again and he tells people that my grandmother is having a baby. I'm not making light of their situation but honestly they are as happy as pigs in shit and they are cute. They kiss and giggle and act like newlyweds. They are being taken care of at home by my dad and my aunt, have a weekend live-in helper and have basic health care at home. They have a golf cart to get around the farm with, and their main vehicle is a 5-speed manual transmission truck. My dad has just bough them a car. To make it easier (more accurately, possible) for them to drive. They live way out in the country so thankfully they won't make it to an interstate and end up in New Mexico or something.

Moving on to my dad... I have mentioned that he suffers from the Jimmy Legs (Restless Leg Syndrome) and that he has a pill-pushing doctor. He gets valiums by the buckets and his newest remedy for his Jimmy Legs is valium and Hershey's Kisses. Apparently the ones with almonds work better. I asked my stepmother if that combination actually helps him or just knocks him out so that he doesn't realize he's dancing in his sleep and she is of the opinion that it just knocks him out and makes him forget about it.

Maybe Some Lipgloss?

This afternoon, Moggie and I spent a few hours in the local hospital's imaging area to get a location on the quarter that she swallowed. It's in her lower intestines, about to enter the colon. Good news, it should pass in a day or so. I'll be picking through turds with a chopstick to find that quarter. I hope it flushes because I just don't want to put that baby back in circulation. I definitely don't want to reach down into the toilet to retrieve it.

While we were waiting on the radiologist to confer with our pediatrician to decide what to do about the quarter, a lady came into the room with us. She was a patient, and she walked with a cane and carried a motorcycle helmet. About that time another little kid and his grandmother came in and the little boy said, "Helmet" and the grandmother looked over and said, "Yes, he has a helmet" and continued to dig around in her purse. The helmet lady said "she" and it was all I could do to not laugh out loud because she did indeed look like a he. It was a little uncomfortable and I was just thanking my lucky stars that my kid wasn't the one calling her a he.