Comments From the Peanut Gallery
Monday, September 20, 2004
Okay, tell me how you REALLY feel!-[ comments.]
Saturday, September 18, 2004
I'm posting...
because I just don't know what else to do with myself. My stomach has been in knots all day and I am a nervous wreck.
Why, you ask?
I don't want to go into details, I don't think I have it in me, but I will tell you this: my hometown is within an eyelash of being practically destroyed by a flood. The Ohio River is expected to crest over 10 feet above flood level. That will take out most of downtown. Considering almost every creek and stream has overflowed its banks already and the sewers are full, this is a nightmare.
My parents house is flooded, and their patio is completely destroyed, as are most of the contents of their basement. I remember helping my dad lay the bricks on the patio when I was a young teen.
The back wall to my house is caving in, and the bathroom is flooded.
But we're lucky. I have three friends who have houses completely under water and more friends than I care to count whose houses will be as well if the river rises as high as it's expected.
This flood could potentially wipe out my WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD and a HUGE chunk of my hometown...which is, by the way, Wheeling, West Virginia, population 30,000.
So, here I sit, 2 1/2 hours away, safe from the chaos and destruction. But I would give anything to be there right now...doing SOMETHING! But I can't...so I will do what I can: If you are the praying kind, the believer in a higher power kind, the light a candle kind...PLEASE DO IT...cuz my hometown is going to need all the divine intervention it can get.
Saturday, September 11, 2004
Today....
my parents did something that is almost considered the impossible. Today, they celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary.
Fifty years. That's 600 months. 18,250 days. 438,000 hours. 26,280,000 minutes.
No matter how you measure it, that's a LONG time.
We're throwing a party for my parents, but it's later in the month because my sister can't get here from Atlanta any sooner. So, we sent my parents a bouquet of flowers so we could at least acknowledge the day. Personally, I think it needed acknowledgement. Fifty years...wow...
Anyway, in honor of my parents, I am posting a column I wrote about them several years ago. I know that I have posted about them, and sometimes I haven't painted them in the best light...but I could have done a helluva lot worse in the parent department. So, Skip..MB...happy 50th anniversary....I love ya!
Odd Apples Come From Odd Trees
I aadmit it -- I'm an odd person. I've been told that I think, for lack of a better description, weird. However, I can't take all the credit. My mind is the meld of two of the strangest people I have ever known.
My mother is five-foot nothing, while my dad is over six feet tall. She's a worrier, he's so laid back he's almost horizontal.
Mom was a nurse and dad was a drill sergeant in the Army. Mom could give me a clinical reason not to do anything. Dad could tell me how to prepare...just in case I didn't listen to my mother.
Once Mom told me there were many toxins in the air; therefore, I should only breathe when necessary. She was half joking. Dad taught me how to detect a nuclear bomb attack, and the ins and outs of wearing a gas mask. He was serious.
Mom gave me the clinical explanation for why I should not have sex when I started dating. Dad taught me four ways to paralyze a guy just in case he went too far.
She taught me how to clean a house. He taught me how to clean a carburetor and use a flame-thrower (good for cleaning up anything you can't throw away...but always have a hose nearby!).
Mom showed me how to clean, sanitize and fold laundry --hospital-style. Dad taught me how to pack two-weeks worth of clothes in a 4X2 footlocker in ten minutes or less.
According to mom, if someone was pressing me for personal information I should politely state: "I'm sorry, I don't give that information to people I don't know." Dad simply told me to say, "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you".
Mom, the caring considerate nurse was a strict disciplinarian; it was her way or the highway. Dad, the gruff drill sergeant was an old softy. If there was something I wanted to do and money was involved I'd go to dad first. Mom was a hard sell; in addition, she never carried cash.
She taught me how to make a bed with hospital corners. He taught me how to make a bed with sheets pulled so tightly you could bounce a quarter off them. Because of the sometimes daily bed-making drills, I haven't made a bed since 1988.
Mom took care of the kids; dad nursed the pets. Mom was a screamer, and would often yell about the same things repeatedly, to make sure you got the message. However, dad's famous line, spoken in the quietest of tones was "I don't like to repeat myself".
She taught me to polish white hospital shoes. He taught me to spit shine black jump boots. I was much older before I realized how much free labor I gave them.
Mom could never remember my name. She would go through every member in our family and sometimes half our pets before she finally got to me. My father never remembered my age. I was 15 for six years straight.
If I had to ask permission to do something, I always made sure I wore comfortable shoes for the impending game of what I used to call "Permission Ping-Pong". Getting a decision from my parents was an exercise...sometimes in futility. Here's an excerpt. I'll start with mom, but the scenario played out the same way if I started with dad:
Me: Mom, can I go (insert destination here)?
Mom: What did your dad say?
Me: Haven't asked him yet.
Mom: Well go ask him.
The search for my father would ensue. Normally he was outside...under the hood of a car.
Me: Dad, can I go (insert destination here)
Dad: Did you ask your mother?
Me: Yes.
Dad: Well, what did she say?
Me: she told me to ask you
Dad: (mumbles annoyance that she passed the buck) Well it's fine with me.
Sounds simple enough, right? It's not over. Although my father said it was okay to him, he would never assume to answer for my mother. Therefore, it was implied that I should go back to my mother and tell her what dad said. I found this out the hard way, and my assumption got me grounded for a week.
After that, I got it in writing.
I'm older now and my parents are as well. However, they are still the walking contradictions they were when I was growing up. My telephone will ring and my mother's voice will be on the other end. As I look up from the dishes I'm washing I see her standing on her porch...20 feet away. I'll come back from the store to find dad has started a home improvement project--at my house. Mom can't remember my name, and dad still has no idea how old I am.
I wouldn't change a thing.
Friday, September 10, 2004
I'm a Grandma!
Heh...I bet THAT got your attention!
For a class assignment, Taylor brought home a "Baby Think It Over". It's a "lifelike doll that cries throughout the day and night..just like a real baby. for the next two days, Taylor has to be the "baby"'s primary care giver.
Oh man, has it been an experience so far.
The baby (whose name is Willie) has cried twice since he's been here. Twice in about 7 hours. Taylor is ready to pull her hair out. Me, I'm bustin' a gut I'm laughing so hard. She doesn't see the humor.
"Quit laughing! Do you know how hard it is to have this kid and get anything done?"
"Hum...nope, not a clue. Go ahead, enlighten me."
"The first time he cried, I was on the phone and had to hang up to feed him and change his diaper."
Wow...I don't know which is more tragic, the diaper change or that she had to get off the phone. I kept that thought to myself.
"And you were here for the second time."
"Yep. I was. And I have pictures to prove it."
Taylor scowled at me and walked away. If she's annoyed with me taking the pictures, then I can't imagine how she's going to react when (or if) she sees the pictures I posted below.
As she walked out of the room, I yelled after her.
"Don't forget Willie!"
She's still not speaking to me. think maybe she'll think long and hard about having kids (and perhaps having sex) before she is ready to deal with the consequences? Here's hoping.
Gee..can't wait to see how she reacts when the baby cries...at 3am...
Saturday, September 04, 2004
Just a quick update...
On what's been going on around here...
Lou's still working...sort of. He's waiting for his uniform to come in so that he can begin formal training. Until then, there are only so many things he can do and so many hours he can work a week..READ: not much. So, for now, I'm still paying all the bills..READ: robbing Peter to Pay Paul! And that means that I've had to scale back on some expemses, since my hours have been less than usual. Can't go into details about that cuz of a confidentiality clause I signed...but let's just say our company had to make some changes and they have not gone as smoothly as most had hoped.
Anyway. Since my hours are not what they used to be, I've had to cut back on some expenses. In short, I got rid of my living room suit. The payments were killing me and since it was getting to the point where I was having to choose between keeping it and living on tuna fish or getting rid of it and buying some ground beef, I opted to return it.
Don't ask me how I feel about it. Of course, you probably don't need to ask.
Other than that, things are about the same. Taylor is settling into her new school nicely. She's made a couple of friends...matter of fact, she's at a friend's house now. We're still shopping for a new car...and the old one has a new noise. *sigh* My sister called to let me know that we were scaling back the party idea for mom and dad's anniversary..seems she's a bit strapped for cash too. Gee...seems to be going around...
Wow..this post is a bummer. Let me end it with a promise that my next post we be happier. See ya in 2009. Kidding! More like 2012...
Heh...I now return you to your normally scheduled life already in progress...
