Tuesday, June 19, 2018

You're Not the Boss of Me.

I have never been one to be a follower.
As soon as you tell me that I have to do something a certain way then I will immediately try to find another way to do it or refuse to do it at all.
My pinecone Mama told me I was quite a handfull during my teenage years but that was because I realized early that she was NOT the boss of me.
I honestly don't remember being anything but me.
I did and do remember pulling my hair out (yes, completely bald on one side) at 14 because of the stress of too many people telling me what to do.

Point of the story?

My grandson.
He is 4.

Below are 2 pics of my husband trying to teach our grandson to spit watermelon seeds.
Bacon (the grandchilds chosen moniker for my husband who does indeed love bacon) instructed him to stand behind the line, insert the seed, get a lung full of air and then spit.
They were competing for a while and the grandson did well.

Insert seed into mouth and look at camera with an 'I got this' smirk.

Inhale enough air to create a vaccum around yourself before spitting...

It was a fun activity on a hot June day.
He actually figured it out and was entertained for a while.

I took the pics to send to his mom and dad while they were at work so they would be entertained as well.
It wasn't till days later as I looked at the pics again, that I realized the pictures were a glimpse into the dawning of rebellion.

The young padawan is not even close to being behind the line.
(he was when we started and before I decided to take pictures)
I was not aware at the time but it looks like he has moved up with every step or seed!
"You are not the boss of me!"

And so it begins.
Keep an eye on this one we must.

Thank you for being here.

Monday, April 16, 2018

The Expiration Date.

Recently my mother, yes the giver of pinecones one, hurt her back lifting a 60 pound vintage sewing machine since that is how senior citizens in my family work on upper body strength.
Just kidding.
We do lots of fork lifting.
As in table to mouth.
As in extra reps if there is pie.
So I was needing some extra pinecones... just kidding again...I went to stay with her and help out as she mended because I needed to feel like I was 9 years old again and in need of time out.
For almost 2 weeks I trepidatiously tried to tend to a person who knows the correct way to do most everything, won't eat anything unless it is 'good for you', keeps EVERYTHING in case she or someone she knows might need it and who is a bit snippy now because she is in pain.
The things we do for love.
Or what we do out of guilt and possibly the shadow of future quilt.
Point of the story?
Yes, butter.
It has been my experience that the Great Depression generation believes that butter is Greasy Gold.
To them it is good on anything and should always be in the house.
As a child my mother would put it on sandwiches, both sides, to 'keep the mayonnaise from soaking into the bread'.
I hated it.
My mothers version of a good sandwich was 2 pieces of bread, lots of butter and some butter toppings like roast beef or ham.
Well, during my stay with her I was making some food for the two of us and needed some butter to saute a few vegetables.
There was no butter in the refrigerator so out to the giant garage freezer of long forgotten leftovers and bargain groceries I went.
Found it:

Butter from a bygone era.

Look at the 'best if used by' people!

2007 !!
Butter from another decade!!

But my mom is 83 and only in ill health from trying to do too much and I wanted to tempt fate.

So we ate it.

It was actually delicious!
Expiration dates are made to be tested by people who live (and possibly die) on the edge, who take risks, who have no fear of danger!
Sell by dates did not even exist for the public till the 1970's yet humans survived for centuries and myriad generations before their existence.
My family has eaten bugs, worms, fish food, dirt and dog treats, all with no dates to warn us off.
We are still going strong.


I am alive and healthy after eating 11 year old butter.
My mother is on the mend after eating 11 year old butter.
Expiration dates are helpful, sometimes annoying, easily ignored, wasteful and a predictor of things to possibly come.

My plan is to go well past my human expiration date.

Hope you will join me!

Thank you for being here.

Thursday, March 15, 2018

Easter Peeps vs Godzilla. Retribution.

It is that Eastery time of year and my brain would not shut off.
So...after Godzilla mostly beat the beejeebus out of the Marshmallow Peep Bunnies a couple years ago, they decided to inflict their ultimate revenge.


I bring you,

The Peeps Revenge,

The Peeps take back Easter,

Marshmallow Retribution or

The Kraken Peep:

Easter Bunny Peeps vs Godzilla

Or this outdoor version:

Easter Marshmallow Peep Bunnies vs Godzilla

(Now as a true green Godzilla fan I am keenly aware that Godzilla should/could/would always win, but sometimes strength, power, scariness and the immediate need to retreat come in the simplest packages)

Happy Easter.

Thanks for being here.

Sunday, February 4, 2018

With Love From...

Valentines Day is fast approaching, so please let me wish you a:

Happy Valentines Day!

From our family to yours!

Godzilla Valentine Love

It's all about love.
All of it.

Thanks for being here.
Have a lovely day!

Sunday, January 28, 2018

Perpetual Winter Coat.

Living with animals, the mammalian variety, for me is one of the greatest honors I have as a human.
The fact that they haven't killed me at some point during the day is testament to their intelligence, restraint and understanding of doorknobs.
So....if they have the a b i l i t y to destroy me but choose not to, they are shrewdly teaching me that I should appreciate and honor them all the more.
They do have many ways of subtle domination but the one I will focus on today is their fur, hair or whatever you want to call the stuff that covers EVERYTHING IN MY HOME!!!
It is the animal worlds way of branding us humans so other animals know who we belong to.
Lint rollers need to come in wallpaper versions about 30 layers thick so as the family prepares for the day we just lean and roll our whole body against the wall and go out the door.
We then tear off a sheet of 'wallpaper' when it gets too furry and repeat as necessary.
This attachment of animal hair to humans is why I really don't need a winter coat.
Every day a fresh jacket becomes magnetized to me as I move about the house.
Some days I worry that a PETA supporter will throw red paint on me in protest as I walk down the street.
It is that bad.
Is it that good?
Q. What is a little lot of hair on your clothes every day when you compare it to adoring dog kisses, snuggles and excitement when you return home or purring, petting and cleaning up hairballs?
A. Often it is a hassle when scheduling concerns are now delayed by the process of hair removal or being broke because of all the money was spent on lint rollers and never looking like you did laundry even though you do a load every single day and could weave blankets out of the 'lint' that comes out of the dryer.

But...like I mentioned earlier, animals honor us with their presence and love us no matter what kind of jerk we are on any given day.
It is worth every single minute and every single discarded hair.
It is also being able to stay warm in the winter without even trying as your 'pets' share some of their warmth like a reverent gift as you leave the house.

One of these things is not like the other.
But they all share their coats.

Thank you for being here.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Dinner Bell.

When I was younger my sister and I would, more often than not, play outside after school with neighborhood kids until it was dinner time.
We knew it was dinner time when our mother would stand out on the front porch and ring a bell.
It wasn't a loud bell but it had high timber and we knew we had to come home within the next five minutes after hearing it.
No actually it was 5 minutes after she began ringing it, but when we were zooming around hiding in the bushes or riding our bikes all willy nilly we didn't always hear it because dadgummit we were in the middle of something!
But ring it she did and under the threat of some random extra chore for tardiness we usually bolted home.

The family dinner bell.

This ritual occured until we got old enough to cook for ourselves and decided to not carry the burden of sitting at the table for 3 hours after dinner was over because we refused to consume some horrible concoction our mother thought we needed in our diet.
Although to be fair we were pretty healthy and did not take vitamins back then or have bouts of sickness that required hospital stays so maybe........
M a y b e...
Meals though were pretty routine and pale because the only spices we had in the house to make meals interesting were:
Salt...for everything.
Pepper...for company--to show how fancy we were.
Cinnamon... for bread and toast.
Nutmeg...for custard pie.
That is it!
Even regular mustard was for people living in the fast lane.
I bring this up because I'm thinking of starting a new blog where people who are nervous about the aging process can ask me all types of questions then receive semi-researched but mostly cockamamy speculative answers and take some stress off of their worried old shoulders.
Such as:
Q: Why do old people eat dinner so early?
A: Well, gentle reader it is because they could die at any minute and they feel the need to get one final meal in their bodies before the sun goes down or people* will sneak their food away under the cover of darkness!
And driving after dark to get food or anything is practically a suicide mission.
I find that as I get older that this early meal regimen is adhered to with every meal.
Why take the chance?
Food is the highlight of the day.
Heck, food is the highlight of life!!
Dead people don't get excited if someone mentions mashed potatoes!
So hearing the dinner bell or watching the clock in anticipation of the next meal means that life is good!!!
Yes, yes it is.
Where is that cake from yesterday?

Thanks for being here.

*people? People, being no one really, because who does that? Dogs m a y b e, but even they aren't that crazy about applesauce. But have you ever tried to argue with an 85 year old who is hungry?

Monday, January 1, 2018

And then....

And then......

It was/is 2018.

I actually stayed awake until after midnight without having to tape my eyelids open and wished every one at my party a "Happy New Year!"
And by 'at my party' I mean I didn't really have a party and I don't have friends who could stay awake that long if I did.
So, I kissed my husband sitting in the chair next to me, texted 'Happy New Year' to the rest of my loving family, comforted my shaking dog who is terrified of fire works and finished a 'Call the Midwife' Christmas Special on Netflix and considered all this celebration as my way of welcoming in a brand new year!

It was fabulous.

I'll probably do it again in 2019.

That's the kind of party animal I am.

Thanks for being here and may 2018 be everything you need it to be!

My Boxer. A real party animal!!
And yes, he got that box on his head all by himself.

Tuesday, December 19, 2017

Googly Christmas

This post is a Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to you post.
I wish all my readers the happiest of times this season.
There is lot going on in my life here at the end of 2017 and those 'going on' things keep me from regular postings and my brain from working on the coherent side of normal.
But you deserve better in 2018 so please stay with me!!!!!!!
Love you lots.

Keeping an eye on our Christmas festivities.
My Taxidermy Christmas Tree, "The eyes make it so lifelike!"

Thanks for being here.

Sunday, October 15, 2017

How much is it?

Such an elusive thing.
My father always told me that "The rich get richer and the poor...can't do anything about it".
Words to think about.
No, he didn't always say that.
What he always said was "Would you please get some fudge ripple ice-cream when you go to the store?"
No, he only sometimes said that.
What he always said was "How much is it?"
Now that is a phrase that most everyone can relate to.
I thought that as I got older I would have more disposable income and wouldn't have to worry about that question.
I don't know why I thought that.
It's a good thought but completely erroneous.
"How much is it?"
I ask that question when I buy groceries, get gas, watch TV, do ANY sort of shopping or gift giving.
Everything in my world revolves around that question.
It stinks.
What brought it up was this shirt:

Neil Young is my Co-Pilot shirt

Not something I need, (I don't even wear t-shirts!) just some sentiment I think is adorable because I have liked Neil Young since forever and still have the ticket stub from the first concert I ever went to which was...of course...Neil Young and the ticket was $3.00.
ARE YOU KIDDING?????????????????
Yes, $3.00 !!!!
That is how old I am.
Kinda bragging right here, but that is free.
So I thought the shirt was cute.
But when I found it online-here it was $78.00!!!
It's a freaking t-shirt!!!!
Kinda crazy.
Don't even wanna spend that much on a casket.
Like who cares how cute your death box is.
But I understand that a casket and all the death party accessories can be quite expensive.
Not that I am ready to shop for that yet.
Google says the average funeral is $7000-$10000!
And you don't even get fudge ripple ice-cream for any guests who might show up to say good-bye thrown in as a bonus!
Google's average estimate cost for burial makes $78.00 for a dumb t-shirt almost look like a good deal!
Especially if I save it for my funeral outfit!
Spend it while you got it people.

Thanks for being here!

Monday, September 25, 2017

Mosquitos don't even deserve a blog post!

I get that mosquitos are part of the food chain.
That they are food for bats, frogs, lizards, spiders, some birds and probably many more dietary deviants that I am not even aware of.
They are necessary.
(I typed the previous sentence with my eyes closed because if I don't see it then it's not true)
Recently I became a significant part of that food chain too.
I am a buffet item for them.
Have mercy!
I am contributing major tissue* donations on a daily basis to this circle of life and will probably pass out before I finish this post.
Since hurricane Irma bashed up my little part of life here in Florida, the mosquitos think it's Mardis Gras or Spring Break or the Running of the Bulls or OctoberFest or La Tomatina or some such other party that I can't relate too because I am not big on crowds, large pointy bovines or vegetables in my hair.
That is why the sun is out and I am inside at the computer.
I am sitting at the computer scratching like a yard dog trying to soothe the itch of bites I didn't know I had.
It is 85 degrees right now and I am wrapped up in a double thick throw that is my temporary mosquito armor.
One consolation though is that these hurricane mosquitoes are huge.
Well, not huge like blue whale huge, but big enough that if they were domesticated could be kept on a leash.
As a pet.
If you like quiet blood sucking pets that won't bark at your neighbors or require a pet deposit at your rental.
Because who has time for grooming and teaching things to roll over?
But gratefully because of their immenseness, the hurricane mosquitos are easy to spot and exterminate.
So after my son and husband declare war in the front room on the little buggers that squeaked through the screen door after we quickly get groceries out of the car, the scene looks like a blood filled paintball fight that lasted way too long.
Then I, yes I alone, spend the next 20 minutes trying to remove the bloody squashings from the wall that must be cleaned up immediately because if the spots are left for more that 15 nano-seconds, they bond to the wall like paint does on a battleship.
Squashings and insect death everywhere.
It is truly a scene from a nightmare.
Don't know why I thought you should know this.
But there it is.
Covered with bumps, itching and a splat of blood.

Thanks for being here.
Be careful out there!

One of my resident but mostly useless pond frogs who is clearly more interested in showing off than catching mosquitoes.
(No bloody squashed mosquito pic for this easily queasy blog.)

*Yes, blood is a tissue. I had no idea of that till I did a little (very little) research on the good old inter web. Now you know it too!
Mosquitos: Your educational resource!

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

'Body' Language?

Body part parade.

Above you can see some lovely ladies of my clan walking around with body parts.
Mannequin body parts, but still body parts.
We got lots of funny looks and even more comments on the oddness of our group as well as pictures taken because folks said that nobody would believe them if they told the story of how they saw our strange but merry band carrying fake people in their arms.
It was a great financial deal on the lot of torsos and we were quite pleased to get them not realizing the big deal people would make of them as we carried them to the car even though they had been for sale and on display ALL DAY before we found them.

My 3 year old grandson was not so pleased.
Not pleased AT ALL.
When we rested the full body mannequin up against the wall to wait for it's new owner to claim it, he would not go near it.
Could not even turn the hall corner in case he might glance up at it.
Told us it was scary.
He was/is 100% correct.
Unclothed mannequins are like deadness on display.
Not that there is anything wrong with deadness, you just don't expect to pass by it on your tricycle eating a pudding pop.
That's why mannequins usually have clothes on, they are trying to fool people into thinking they are regular humans just trying to be part of what's happening.

So we rectified the situation for him as you can see in the next picture...

Auntie Amy comes to visit.

The cardboard face is from my daughters wedding and has added birthdays, dinners and working as a very effective security guard in our home for about 6 weeks to it's face-only job resume.
The clothing is a raincoat.
That is all it took and the grandson was fine with it.
He asks if Amy will be there when we get in the car on the ride to my house.
He even tells 'Amy' goodbye when he goes home after staying with me for the day.
But the mannequin finally went to it's forever home and my grandson has asked where Amy is repeatedly ever since.
We just tell him, "She's at work" and he seems ok with that.
He hasn't seen the real Amy since the mannequin Amy left.
Can't wait to see his reaction when they finally meet again.

Simple things.

Thanks for being here.

Friday, August 4, 2017

"Here's a dollar, why don't you two elope?"

The title of this post is a quote from my father.
Most of the time his quote was "Here's a quarter, why don't you_______?"
My sister and I could fill in the blank with whatever chore he wanted us to do.
He also probably thought that because our family rarely had any expendable cash that a quarter or even a dollar was inticing.
It was not.
We usually just chuckled and went on our way because my father was a kidder.
The only time he was ever serious was after he and my mother were in a motorcycle accident.
He was serious for about 4 months before reverting back to his usual silly self.
Which leads up to the 2 points of this post:

1) Weddings are hard.
2) Seriously.

And I am not the one getting married.
Even for the mother of the groom the magnitude of getting ready for a wedding is tsunami like.
My father must have understood this magnitude instinctively.
"Here's a dollar, why don't you two elope?"
It was his wise way of being comical and serious...sort of like a warning, because my sister and I heard it repeatedly as soon as we were old enough to date.
Now, my son is getting married.
His marriage is a long distance wedding so I offered my son ALL the money he needed to elope and he wouldn't take it.
His fiancé really wants a wedding.

Now don't get me wrong, weddings are enchanting and lovely and expensive and fun and full of endearing details and expensive and memorable and yummy and a lovely time for the family and have I mentioned expensive?

Having just the one son gave me no previous experience with the true magnitude of the grooms family responsibilities, which are, as I have mentioned, extensive, expensive and much more expanded than from when I was growing up which, if I recall, was only to pay for the minister and the rehearsal dinner which isn't so bad but now includes lodging, gifts, extra food, spouses or significant others and enough beds and towels for everybody all of which wouldn't matter so much if someone had just told me these things with enough lead time that I could have sold a body part to help financially because my son didn't know and quite possibly didn't try to know because I think he is now thinking with another part of his body other than his brain if you know what I mean plus the fact that I am soooo much older now that I can barely handle the stress of boiling water for tea in the mornings which makes me think that this destination wedding stuff is a made up thing to give humans something to do on any given weekend because Netflix is entirely too slow in producing their good quality binge watching stories if you know what I mean?

And I think we all agree that we all know what I mean.

Don't get me wrong though.
There is no doubt in my actual brain that the wedding will be beautiful, meaningful and come off with very few hitches (thanks to the brides extremely organized mother) but my fathers words sound off in my head at least 5 times a day because, besides weddings, stress is hard.
"Here's a quarter, go see shrink."

My father in all his wisdom...and whiskers.

Thanks for being here.