I Am Feeling The Love

Aside from Mr. Newsman and my boss, I guess not everyone dislikes me.

I sure did get me some love here at the audit in Chicago. We do this audit every year, and this is the fourth year in a row I’ve been here. The staff loves me here! And I don’t think it ALL has to do with the fact that I buy them donuts every Friday that I’m here!

The four of us auditors pulled up on site Monday morning about 10:00 a.m. Walking in the door was like a homecoming for me. Half of the staff got in line to hug me as I came through the department. The rest of the auditors got nods hello, but no hugs. That earned me a few comments from the other auditors along the lines of WTF.

The best part though, came at lunch. We went to a Greek diner for lunch that I’ve been to many times on my previous trips to Chicago. As soon as we all walked in, the one waitress ran right up to me and hugged me and said she was happy to see I made it back into town and came to the restaurant again! Yeah, being a good tipper helps too.

The guys better watch out. I have friends in town! Who’d have thought?

I Have No Tact

Or, so I have been told.

Friday I was having an attitude day. You know, one of those days when almost anything can bother you? There I was, blowing off a little steam with a favorite website while at work. Thanks go to my nephew, Michael, for that one. Like I need help goofing off! But, I digress.

I followed a link on Fark to an article. You know, one of those Christmas/dead soldier stories. It could have been a good sappy story for the holiday, but all I could see were two typos. Considering this article came from a "News" agency, KUTV out of Utah, I thought it was horrific that the typos were there. And, not one typo but two typos. It's not a blog from a nobody, it's not an e-mail or a letter from friend to friend, it's a news report. Call me stupid, but I think that they should be typo-free.

Did I mention that I was having a snarky day? The guy had his e-mail address as part of his article, so I took advantage of it. Here is my e-mail to him, in its entirety less our names:

Mr. XXX:
After reading your article, only one thing remains in my mind. You really need to hire a proof reader.

I thought I was being as nice as I could be, letting him know that he screwed up without telling him in a way that I really wanted to use! Here was his response, again in its entirety, less our names:

Ms. YYY
Thank you for the message and for pointing out the two grammatical errors contained within the copy.
Next time, however, I hope you will use more tact with your criticism.
XXX, KUTV.com

I was going to link his article to this blog, but I just went and reread his article and he FIXED the typos. There went my fun. Since he said I was tactless, I am not giving him any publicity here.

As a side note, anyone that knows me, knows my e-mail to him WAS tactful. He should have seen the first five drafts of the e-mail. Good thing I proof read before I hit the send button, not only for typos but for decorum as well. Yeah, buddy. This was the cleaned up version.

Will Someone Please Answer My Boob?

For the last few days, a couple of times a day, the side of my left boob feels like it's vibrating. You know the feeling when your phone is on vibrate in your pocket? That's the feeling.

Ok, yes, my phone is almost always on vibrate but to the best of my recollection, it's never been by my left boob.

I've been hearing things on the radio and on the news this past week about people having phantom feelings regarding their phones. For example, you don't even have your phone on you but you feel it vibrate in your pocket or you hear it ring even when it's not ringing?

I never thought I was that attached to my phone (after all, I have been known to leave it in my car all night when I don't want to talk to anyone!) but what else could it be?

Either that or someone really wants to talk to my boob. C'mon now. I feel ya calling.

Dirty Dozen

Can you believe it's been 12 years?

12 years ago today, I left my hometown of Erie Pennsylvania for what I thought was greener pastures in Houston Texas. I've been thinking a lot about this today.

I was trying to remember back that far. We all have defining moments in our lives, this was definitely one of mine.

I hardly remember the girl that left Erie all of those years ago. I know I left with a dream based on a promise. Both were broken, but that helped make me who I am today.

So here we are, 12 years later. I am no longer in Texas, I am now in Ohio. I am working on new dreams with no empty promises attached. I am smarter now, a little stronger, and a little less naive. I'm scared of what tomorrow will bring, but hopefully I will be strong enough to face it.

That girl that left 12 years ago is definitely gone. Here's to the new and improved (?) model.

Christmas Came Early

I know my Sissy loves me!

In the mail today, I received a box of home grown California pomegranates!

My sister has Pomegranates growing all around her property and from what I hear, they grow faster than she can eat them. Luckily, she knows someone that can help her out with them. Yes, that would be me!

So, if anyone is interested in one, c'mon over. But you better hurry . . . they won't last long!

Only Me

From the files of these things only happen to me, I have had serious issues with the blow dryers in the rooms at the hotel.

Last Friday morning, I showered in the morning and was running late so I had to blow my hair dry. There I was, half dressed in the bathroom, bent over from the waist, my hair hanging down in front of me, blow dryer in hand.

Suddenly, the blow drying was coming to a screeching stop and something was tugging at my hair. Somehow, my hair got sucked into the back of the blow dryer. I was so stuck.

The blow dryers are mounted to the walls in the hotel. I can’t reach my cell phone in the other room nor can I reach the door to the hallway. Then again, I’m only half dressed, so who the heck am I going to call to help me? I did start to panic and then just started ripping. Some hair was ripped from my head and some hair was ripped from the dryer. A little hair was left in both places!

Ok, I chalked it up to just a bad morning. I was safe, I was able to escape the evil blow dryer, I was ok.

Then, Wednesday night, I took a shower and didn’t want to go to bed with a wet head. Again, I started up the blow dryer. Again, bent over from the waist and my hair all in front of me when suddenly, I hear a grinding sound and smell smoke. Yeah, that was ME smoking! Well, my hair at least.

Somehow, out of all of that on Wednesday, I had the best hair day I’ve had in a long time on Thursday. Everything went right where I wanted it to! Ok, I couldn’t see the back of my head so well, so I may really have a huge hole back there from ripping my hair out, but from the front, my hair looked good!

Dufus Update

Believe it or not, Dufus # 1 never got out of the hospital until this past Wednesday. He had his feeding tube taken out last Friday and they were starting to introduce clear liquids to see how he tolerated them. Well, I guess he didn’t do so well with that, as they had to insert the tube back into him on Saturday.

We went to see him Monday night and the tube was still there. Tuesday they finally took it out again as well as his drainage tube and his IV. He did look a lot better Monday night in spite of the tube up his nose. And, he was joking around and worrying about work. Those are both good signs of recovery!

Things finally went well for him. He was released on Wednesday evening and got home Wednesday night. I talked to him today and he really sounded good.

This is one trip he will never forget.

I’ll Give You Black And Blue

I travel so much that in my mind, I have suitcase packing down to a science. I will only take one bag, so I must be frugal with my packing as to make it all fit. After all, I don’t have a valet to carry my bags, so the less I pack, the less I have to carry.

I bring with me only two pair of slacks, plus a sweater or blouse for each day. Add in some underwear, pantyhose and a toiletry bag and I’m out the door. The two pairs of slacks that I pack are usually picked so that both will go with one pair of shoes. I don’t pack anything extra. Usually I go with black and blue slacks one week or black and gray to go with black shoes and the next week will be brown and tan to go with the brown shoes. Hey, in my world, this makes sense.

My only problem with this is that I’m color blind. Some days it’s more evident than others. I can’t tell any difference between my black slacks and my blue ones. Ask poor Ron how many times I’ve woken him up in the morning to ask him which slacks are in my hand! It’s sad when your man has to help you get dressed in the morning! When I’m on my black and blue week, I’m careful not to get them mixed up. If I start the week with black slacks on, when I get to the hotel and hang up my clothes (yes, I always hang up my clothes at the hotel) I will hang the blue slacks right in front and when I undress for the night, the black ones will hang in the back so I can tell them apart in the morning.

I don’t know what I was thinking last night when I got ready for bed, but when I was getting dressed this morning, both pairs of pants were hung right next to each other. I am in big trouble here. I can’t remember which ones I hung in front.

I turned on every light in the room and I still see no difference. I closed my eyes and picked one and hoped for the best.

So, if anyone out there sees me and notices that I have blue slacks on with my orange blouse, please tell me!

You Want Fries With That?

Some times, you just come across something that just makes you laugh. This was one of those somethings! Some people should just join the food chain before they breed. The bottom of the food chain that is.

What’s The Number For 911?

I have been in such a mood lately to cook. I’m only home on the weekends right now, and I want to spend my time home in the kitchen making real meals. I think about it all week long; what am I going to cook on the weekend. I am just so tired of restaurant food. I want real food, even if it is only my cooking.

Last week, I knew one of the things I wanted to cook this past weekend was sauerkraut. What goes with sauerkraut? Pork. What a winning combination. I knew I had a pork loin in the freezer which is one of my favorite cuts of meat. I’ve made pork loin numerous times and it’s not often it comes out good. That’s a shame since it’s an expensive cut of meat. The meat is not the problem, it’s just that I’m a terrible cook, especially when it comes to pork.

Sunday afternoon I was scouring the internet looking for a good recipe for the pork loin. I found what I thought was a winner and it looked easy to do, as well as the fact that the ingredients were common, as in what I carry in my kitchen.

It called for an easy glaze with honey, orange juice and EVOO, then some broth in the baking pan and let it go. The bad part came in with the fact that I was to baste “often” over the hour cooking time. How often is often? I threw caution to the wind and set my timer for every 10 minutes. Hey, any time I have to get off my butt and “do” something every 10 minutes, to me that was pretty damn often.

The first two basting sessions went well. The third try, however, turned out to be disastrous. I opened the oven, pot holder in hand, I went to tilt the pan to bring all the juices to the corner and suddenly, the darn pork loin shifted. It was actually in two pieces! Yeah, who knew? Top part fell off the bottom part, splashed in the liquid, I jumped, yada yada yada. End result? All of the liquid from in the roasting pan was now on the bottom of my oven.

If you can picture this; between the honey and the EVOO, spilled all over the bottom of my oven. Yeah, what a winner. It immediately started to burn and of course, smoke. And I do mean smoke. Shortly thereafter, all of our smoke alarms were going off. Each of us with only two arms was not enough to fan the smoke away from all of the alarms. So, before the neighbors called the fire department, I turned off the furnace and Ron and I ran to open all of the doors and windows. Once the smoke billowed out of the house and no sirens came racing in, I thought we had the battle won. Wrong. I can’t believe how much smoke came out of that oven. The last recourse was to take all of the batteries out of the smoke alarms. I know, not a good idea. But that incessant alarm going off until the meat was done was just not bearable.

After all that, our house smelled like crap because of the remnants burning in the oven. And, now the last of what was in the pan is just burning to the bottom of the pan. At least Ron had the presence of mind to put some water in the baking pan to help alleviate that part of the problem. To top this fiasco off, the sauerkraut I bought said “Polish style”. Yeah, that was a new one on me. Too bad I didn’t notice that at the store before I bought it. Come to find out, “Polish style” means with little caraway seeds. Yeah, I could have done without that. So, the sauerkraut wasn’t perfect. The mashed potatoes came out good though! And the applesauce was yummy, especially when mixed with the mashed potatoes!

Actually, the pork came out better than I’ve done in a long time. It was still tasty, and moist, even if the glaze ended up on the bottom of the oven. So, it wasn’t what it was supposed to be, but it was good as what it was, whatever that was. We ate half of it and the other half is safely packed in the freezer. Perhaps I’ll make a nice gravy to warm it up in this weekend.

Oh, who am I kidding? After the trauma of that fiasco, I think this weekend is going to be calling the delivery guy to bring us pizza. The neighborhoods will definitely appreciate the peace and quiet.

Welcome Home

Every Friday night after a week of travel, one of the first things I do when I get home is to study the fish tank. Yes, I said study.

I can't just "look". I have to really go over the tank. I judge how dirty or clean, I count the fish to make sure Ron didn't have to flush any while I was gone and just take awhile and relax and study.

Last night, Ron and I were both studying. One of our female gouramis looks really fat. We did some research on getting baby gouramis and that just looked like too much work. The fish tank is only there for fun and relaxation, not work! So, we decided that we weren't going to make the habitat special for breeding the gouramis which would include taking out all but six inches of water from the tank. It's a 65 gallon tank for crying out loud. No, too much work. So, our fat gourami is either eating too much or she might be full of eggs. I don't think we'll be able to bring the eggs to baby fish, but that's ok. It's all about letting nature take its course with this tank. What will be will be.

So that's what I look at and study. One of our platys looks pregnant as well. Ron and I were talking last night that it's time to take the tank apart and give it a good cleaning. That means taking out all of the stuff in the tank like the plants and the slate, we clean the glass inside and out, vacuum all the poop out of the rocks, clean the filter and take out 1/3 of the water, build new hiding places with the plants and slate and then fill it back up with clean water. That's the most work we do with the tank. We thought before these fish have more babies, if they are pregnant, we'll clean the tank. That way, there is no way of putting the babies in danger by taking out all of the hiding places to clean the tank.

Then I saw it!

A BABY!!

Yes, there is a baby platy in there. At first I saw the one, about 1/2 inch long. I was so excited! The more I looked, I thought I saw another, smaller one in the same space. Sure enough, here he came. Almost totally translucent, and about half the size of the first one I saw. Teeny tiny baby! Two confirmed babies, and here's hoping there are more under that rock that I just can't see yet.

So, we'll still clean part of the tank this weekend. I won't touch the area that is hiding the babies but at least it will be better than nothing.

Yeah, that was a great welcome home present on Friday night.

Stuff Happens

It’s been quite a week and it’s only Thursday.

To update you on my computer issue, my corporate IT department was not able to save my laptop. They were no more successful getting it to boot up than I was. So, the good news there is I finally have a brand new laptop; my first brand new one during my tenure with this company. The good and the bad of all that is this is my fourth laptop in 4-1/2 years and each laptop is coming with less Ghz and less Ram, whatever those are. All I know is each piece of crap is slower than the one before it. That sucks.

But, at least I’m up and running. And, they were able to switch hard drives (I type like I know what I’m talking about, huh? Actually, Ron will explain all of this to me when I get home!) and in switching hard drives, it has been the easiest transition to a new laptop yet. I don’t have to install all of my printers again, or set everything up again just like I like it. It’s all done for me. After what I had to go through trying to work without a laptop, I’m happy to have even this POS to get me back in service.

As much as I complain about the two dufuses that I am forced to work with, something has happened that even I wouldn’t wish on them.

One of the dufuses is actually in a local hospital here recovering from an emergency appendectomy. His appendix burst, so unfortunately his recovery will not be as easy as it could have been had the appendix stayed together.

We did put a care package together for him the other night and found our way to the hospital to bug him. The magazines we picked up for him will probably be enjoyed. Not today . . . but some time during his recovery. Unfortunately, the candy and the cookies were probably not a welcome sight as he was busy enjoying his dinner through a tube in his nose.

We’ve definitely had better weeks.

As an update on dufus, he's still in the hospital and probably will be for the rest of the weekend at least. He has had the feeding tube taken out today so that's at least a step in the right direction.

Can I Get My Change?

Friday was a crazy day.

To start with, as soon as I got to the audit site, I tried to boot up my laptop. No go. Nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch.

I did the best troubleshooting I know how. I called Ron and woke him up! Over the phone, he talked me through a few things. I took the battery out, left it out for a little bit and then tried to boot up again. Nothing. Then I switched power cords with one of the other laptops and tried to boot up. Nothing. Lastly, I switched batteries with another laptop. Nothing. Finally, Ron said that without seeing it, he really couldn't talk me through any more over the phone. Time to call my Corporate IT department.

That call was less than productive. When I told IT all that I had tried already, he told me that's what HE was going to tell me to do! I said, ok, I've done that, so what's next? He said to ship my laptop back to him. What? How does that help me? I need my laptop. I am on a travel audit. It's not like I can go to plan "B". All my plans are on that damn laptop. Grr. Talk about lost. IT told me to find a Kinko's, ship the laptop back rush delivery, and as soon as he gets it, he'll work on it. What choice do I have?

So that's how my day started. One of the guys remembered a Kinko's over by where we had lunch last week. I headed over that way, hoping I could find it again. That was the easy part.

I filled out the paperwork at Kinko's, watched them box up my work life line and walked out the door. Here's where the fun began!

Kinko's is in a small strip plaza. When I walked out the door I saw that the business next to it was a bank. Sort of. It was called S&T Bank. Wouldn't you think that was a bank? I've been carrying around a $50 bill on me, and I've been wanting to break it. I don't spend enough money to pay with a $50! It won't work for a tip for housekeeping, it won't buy me a soda from the machine. I don't want to give a $50 to the toll booth operator on the PA Turnpike where I need to pay a $1.50 toll. So, how fortuitous that a bank is right next door to where I am. I will just walk over and break the $50 and head back to the audit site.

I walk in. There, in the vestibule is an armed security guard. Hmm. I walk in the door only to find this looks nothing like a bank I've ever seen before. There is a greeter inside of the door and then nothing but offices and one window which on the other side was a woman at a desk.

The greeter asked me if she could help me. She asked this as I was trying to quietly back my stupid ass out of the door. I tried to explain that I was mistaken and that I thought this establishment was a bank. The greeter said it IS a bank. Well, it may be a bank but it was obvious that I didn't belong there.

So, with my exit route blocked by security and the greeter standing in front of me like a female marine, I explained that I was from out of town and that I was just here to break a $50. First she asked if I had an account at that bank. I again explained that no, I didn't have an account since I was from out of town. She then asked if she could see the $50. What was I supposed to do? I handed it over! She in turn handed it to the lady behind the desk who proceeded to grab one of those counterfeit detecting pens and swiped the pen right across my $50. Once the $50 was verified to be real, the woman behind the desk left with MY $50! A minute later, the lady was back with my change.

I apologized for interrupting their day and thanked them for their assistance and quietly and innocently as I could, left the premises.

What a way to do some banking! Makes me happy for the 5/3 Bank I belong to! At least they LOOK like a bank!

Coincidence? I Think Not.

My hotel room is haunted.

I was going to post this yesterday but I figured being Halloween and all, no one would believe me!

Let me first start by telling y’all that I am sick this week; I have one heck of a cold. I found a Rite Aid here and I stocked up on Puffs Plus (with lotion!), Sudafed PE for day time and Tylenol Cold and Flu for night time. All I needed was some chicken soup.

Anyway, I didn’t make it to work on Tuesday. I stayed in bed at the hotel all day long. I kept hearing the toilet flush. It is not like it is continuous or even once every hour. But, the toilet would flush and I wouldn’t be in the bathroom, so what’s that about? Then I thought maybe it’s just that some hotels have thinner walls than others. Sometimes you hear your neighbor flush, or hear the shower running. I started to think that perhaps this was the cause of my hearing the toilet flush.

Then, on Tuesday, I was out of bed and actually heading towards the bathroom when I heard the toilet flush. I rushed as much as I could rush across my 15’ long room and into the bathroom. While I might not have seen the actual flush, I did watch the toilet bowl fill back up with water. Strange, huh?

Couple that with the fact that I’ve had dreams about my Dad all week long. And, they haven’t been the good kind, either. Dad just died in September so on one hand, it was good to see him in my dreams, but on the other hand . . . it’s hard finding out now that Dad has been so disappointed in me all this time.

Separately, these incidents are no big deal. But together, they have great significance. You see, the toilet and my Dad are quite synonymous.

Anyone that knew my Dad knew that the toilet was his favorite seat in the house. But, that’s not the story of Dad and a toilet that I’m talking about now.

Shortly after moving to Ohio, I had a nice townhouse apartment. The bathroom upstairs used to baffle me though. When I’d leave for work in the morning, the bowl would be full of water. Since I have no pets to drink out of the bowl, one would expect the bowl to be full of water when I returned home from work. But, there were a lot of days that the bowl was almost empty of water! What the heck was happening?! Where was the water going?

My first line of defense was my brother Michael. He lived close by, and he thinks he knows almost everything. I told him of my toilet issue. He gave me some far off story about the wind blowing over the vent on the roof and that it was sucking the water right out of the toilet. Well, while Michael is indeed a smart man, he has been known to talk out of his ass now and again. Hard to know when he’s being serious and when he’s not!

On to line of defense # 2. Brother Jim. I told him of Michael’s story of the wind and the vent pipe and he whole heartedly agreed. Was this a conspiracy to mess with my head? How could this be true? I called shenanigans on the brother alliance against the baby sister and went right to the embodiment of knowledge of all things plumbing – my Dad!

I told him the story of the water missing from the toilet bowl and right there, in front of the two brother conspirators, my Dad came up with the same story of the wind over the vent pipe! Oh NO! They got to him too! Not to be mean here, but I don’t think Dad was smart enough to mess with my head that much. You almost had to believe him. So, it became the running joke about my toilet losing water through the vent pipe on the roof. Because to be honest, I still don't believe that story, even though it was "confirmed" by Dad, too.

I know, that was a long story to tell you that I think my Dad is flushing my toilet in the hotel room. Either that or I really need to lay off the Tylenol cold and flu medicine.

To top this story off, last night, I fell asleep with the tv on the USA channel. I’ve been sleeping a lot this week with the help of the meds but it hasn’t been solid sleep. I’m dozing a lot is more like it. Last night, one of the times I woke up during the night, I heard the program on television. It sounded like a Law and Order episode or a CSI or a show like that. All I heard them say was “It looks like the woman in room 502 was murdered”. Guess what MY room number is! That’s right! 502! I found the remote control right away and shut the damn tv off. Like I need help with my nightmares!

Since I figured out the Dad/toilet correlation he didn’t visit me in my dreams last night. Mom however, was a different story. Who knew that she was so angry with Aunt Annie? And over what? Wow. That was a surprise.

Yeah, I need to lay off the cold medicine. And, based on the premonition of my murder, perhaps sleep with one eye open.

Darn Cat

Just to update the last post, I am allergic to cats!

My eye was a little better this morning, but not much. So, we did make a run to the doctor's office.

He said my eye basically looked good, there is no serious injury. No abrasions, no problem with the pupil. Just swelling and that darn blister thingie. The doctor felt it was totally an allergic reaction.

Since it is much better today, he said to keep my contact out for few days and get some soothing eye drops to put in for a day or two. He didn't think I needed to throw money into a prescription for a month's worth of eye drops. That was good news.

So, I'm going to live! As long as you don't pay attention to my right eye, I look as normal as I did before.

From now on, I am NOT a cat person!

I Think I'm Allergic

Can I develop new allergies at this time of my life? I thought allergies were for younger people.

Ron and I went out tonight with our friends, Larry and Linda. We went for a nice steak dinner. Well, three of us went out for a nice steak dinner. Larry actually ordered ribs and they were not a huge success. The first plate of ribs he got were stone cold. Not a little cold, stone cold. That plate was sent back.

Out came plate # 2 of ribs. Not stone cold, but no where near warm either. Since the rest of us were almost done now with dinner, he didn't want to send plate # 2 back and suffer the wrath of the chef on plate # 3. So, he ate what was in front of him and decided this was not a place he would want to go back to for dinner. Too bad. We'll miss him next time the rest of us are there.

After dinner we headed back to Larry and Linda's for a rousing game of Pokeno. I know, I sure do take the long way around to tell you a story about allergies, huh? Well, I'm getting to that.

Larry and Linda have three cats. I'm really not much of a pet person, aside from my fish. I'm less afraid of cats than I am of most household pets. I don't usually think of them one way or another as long as they are not hissing at me.

One of their cats was more friendly towards me than normal. Usually, I am tolerated or allowed to be in the house and that is it. Tonight, one of the cats tried to extend an olive branch of sorts. She was rubbing against my legs under the table and actually came up to me by the table wanting to be petted. So as not to appear rude to our hosts, I reached down and gave her a cursory little scratch behind her ears. It must have been satisfying because then she walked away.

Sure. Walk away! Now you know that you've infected me with Ick!

Based on how my right eye looks right now, we're assuming I rubbed my eye after petting the cat. A few hours of playing Pokeno and I was ready to rush home to remove my eye. No, not just my contact lens but my entire eyeball.

We did rush home and I popped out the contact lens and was really surprised to see what was left. My eye is red, swollen, weeping and there seems to be some kind of "bubble" under the cornea. It's not for the feint of heart to see. This has me so freaked out that I actually called a 24/7 nurst hotline associated with our medical coverage. She didn't have a clue what would be going on with my eye and suggested calling my primary care physican or if I coudn't reach him, going directly to the ER. Well, sa much as I'm freaking out about my eye, I'm not calling my primary care physician at midnight nor am I going to spend the dough to go to the ER. I guess if it's not better by the morning, I'll call the primary care doctor. Grrr. I don't know what to do.

So, Dr. Ron in all of his wisdom suggested taking a Benedryl. I've done that and it does actually feel like the weeping has lessened.

I've never been allergic to cats in the past. Allergies. At my age. Who'd have thought. At least that's what I hope this is going to turn out to be.

On the good side, Ron was the big winner at Pokeno and took home most of the nickles we were betting. Woo hoo! Good job baby! Next stop - Vegas!

Thank God I Made It Through Friday

I try not to talk about the dufuses that I work with but some days the stories are just too good to not pass along.

This week the four of us came in two cars like usual, but two of our staff had to head back on Thursday night for family obligations or whatever. That meant that I was now taking someone different home. By different, I mean dufus #1.

Here’s what happened Friday morning.

We had agreed to meet up in the lobby at 7:45 am to leave for the audit site. Yes, I was running a few minutes late and actually got downstairs at 7:50. Dufus # 1 is indignant sitting there and informed me he was just about to call me to see if I was going to work today. Hello? Like I’m going to sit in a hotel all day and not work AND leave him stranded in the lobby. Well, I did the adult thing and apologized for being late and asked him if he was ready. Being told he was ready a long time ago, I kept my mouth shut, and turned to walk through the lobby and out of the door.

We get to my car where I proceed to open the trunk and load in my luggage and my laptop. To which dufus # 1 looks at me surprised, let out an expletive and said he’d be right back.

Work with me here. This isn’t the first time he’s traveled for this job. We do go home every Friday at the latest. Yes, sometimes we leave a day early so we can have a day in the office on Friday, but normally Friday is our going home day. Believe it or not, Dufus # 1 forgot to pack! Unbelievable.

So, I sat in the car, smiling like the cat that ate the canary, while he proceeded to run upstairs and pack up his bag and check out of the hotel. That so beat my being five minutes late because I sprayed hairspray in my eye and then had to pry my contact out to clean it. Yeah, I’m not quite up to dufus status just yet.

And How Was Your Day?

Today was my first day back to work in awhile. It sucked.

Did I mention that I'm in Pittsburgh? Nothing against the fine people of Pittsburgh (less the ones on the road that thought I should be burned at the stake for being on the PA roads with OH license plates). But forget about that for now. Let's go back to the beginning. That would be at 4:30 this morning when my freaking alarm clock started going off.

Yeah, 4:30. In the morning. Even the neighborhood punks aren't out at 4:30 in the morning. I got up, got ready, packed up my car and I was pulling out of the driveway at 5:30. I actually made it to my boss' house five minutes early! Yeah, he was surprised to see me. On time I mean. I told him to mark it down because it probably won't happen two weeks in a row.

Most of the drive to Pittsburgh was ok. At least until that pesky sun started coming up high enough to blind me. Geez. Yeah, can you tell I'm not a morning person? Then the construction hit. It was everywhere. We slowed to a stop about 1/2 hour before our final destination in Pittsburgh. That 1/2 hour ended up taking us over an hour. I guess that's not too bad but I was white knuckling it and holding my breath through most of it. In one construction zone, we actually went from FIVE lanes down to the ONE lane in the middle. Check my hair, baby. There are a lot more gray hairs in there than there were 10 hours ago. How do people live like this?

Then, after the news of the poor souls in Los Angeles with the fiery crash in the tunnel on Interstate 5, it occurred to me that Pittsburgh has almost no roads. There are bridges and there are tunnels. That's it. If you can't go under it, you must go over it. Did I mention that I hate bridges and I hate tunnels twice as much as that. I tried to close my eyes and put my hands over my eyes when we went through the tunnel but for some reason, my boss wouldn't go for it. What? Like he couldn't be a human being for two minutes and lean over and grab the steering wheel from me? After all, I did drive the rest of the way and fought all that traffic. C'mon now, help a girl out.

Anyway, I made it to the audit site, a little frazzled, but I made it. We are in a conference room in a warehouse where the documents are stored. We are not allowed anywhere in the building but this conference room and the bathroom. Trust me, it's hard to decide which of the two rooms smells worse than the other. Ugh.

So back to the grind. I'm trying to think positively but it's hard. There's not much nice to say about this whole experience.

To top that off, I noticed shortly after I got here that my right hand is swollen. From about two inches above my wrist down to the big knuckle where my fingers start. My fingers don't seem to be swollen, but the rest of my hand is twice the size it should be. Don't know what that's about.

To finish the lovely visual for you, let's talk about the hotel. It's a decent hotel, the chain we usually stay at, and it's one of the nicer versions of this chain. I give this trip a point for that. However, upon check in, with my bag, my laptop and my 12 pack of Sprite Zero, I take the elevator up to my assigned room, # 502. I open the door and start to walk in and what do I see? I see sheets all over the floor, I see water bottles on the tv stand. I was afraid to look any closer than that.

I took all of my stuff back down to the front desk. I did tell the nice lady that I hate to complain, but I really must insist on cleaner sheets for my room! She was so apologetic that the room wasn't ready, as in her system it showed the room had been cleaned today. Surprise! It wasn't.

No big deal, within a minute, I was given another key to another room just down the hall from the first one, this time it's room # 510. This room is very nice. A few amenities that I haven't seen before such as this work desk on wheels! When not in use, it almost goes into a wall to be out of the way. When I want to blog (or work) I can pull it out and face it to the TV or to look out of the window or to where ever my heart desires. That's cool.

Then it happened. I had to go to the bathroom. Just as soon as I sat down, what did I see in front of me? ME! There I was, in a full length mirror, in all my glory. Let me tell you, I watched me do stuff no one should ever have to watch another human being do, let alone watch themselves do. I may have to rinse my eyes out with Clorox before the night is over! Why would someone put a mirror there? Oh my goodness, I couldn't make myself look away.

I'm ready for Monday to be over and to get on to Tuesday. I'm going to soak my swollen hand in the ice bucket for awhile then I'm taking a shower and going to bed. Maybe tomorrow I'll go buy a hammer and a couple of nails and nail up a towel over that mirror in front of the toilet. Oh help me, I never want to see THAT again!

Now I'm Really Mad!

Friday night was not a good night around here.

It started out great, it just didn't end that way! Ron's oldest son, Alex, flew to town for a visit. We picked him up from the airport, had a great dinner then home for more catching up. Ron left his van in the driveway since we had no plans on anyone leaving for the rest of the evening instead of pulling it around the back of the house like he usually does. The only bad part about that is, he forgot to lock the doors after we all got out.

I bet most of y'all can guess what happened next, considering the neighborhood we live in. Yeah, someone went through the van and helped themselves.

Ron lost his GPS, a Garmin C550 (just like mine!), two packs of cigarettes, and a bunch of CDs that were in a holder on his visor. The CD holder was also holding one of our toll cards, which is a prepaid card to access the Ohio Turnpike without having to worry about carrying cash.

The kicker about the GPS is that it has a lock on it. Without the four digit code, you can't turn it on. It will be useless to anyone trying to use it. Small consolation since now Ron can't use it either.

He noticed the break in on Saturday, and of course, other than filling out a police report, we can't do anything else until Monday. I tried to contact my insurance company to file a claim on my home owner's insurance, but the office was closed. They gave numbers for emergencies, but I wasn't sure this qualified as an emergency. I couldn't contact the Ohio Turnpike to report a stolen card because they are not open either. Garmin is also closed, so we couldn't report the theft to them, either.

So in the meantime, we tried to be proactive. I know, sort of like locking the barn after the cow escaped. However, Ron went and bought some motion lights. Personally I opted for phasers set to pulverize, but he nixed that idea and just went for the motion lights.

We have just spent the last 45 minutes testing it! I know exactly how close you have to get to the house from all angles to set that puppy off. Now I just need to add a sign out there.

"I have PMS and a handgun. Go ahead, make my day."

Time To Make The Donuts

As some of you know, I have been on a leave of absence from work. After my Dad's funeral, I went to work for a few days and decided I didn't want to do it anymore. I still don't want to do it, but I am going back to work on Monday. Or, like I told my boss this morning, I'll be there Monday unless I can come up with a good excuse not to by then!

One of the biggest reasons that I don't want to go back to work on Monday is that I have to immediately go back to traveling. I just don't relish being away from home right now. Call me a wuss, but I am not ready.

To add insult to injury, I talked to my boss this morning about the logistics of coming back to work. He explained some things about the new audit they are currently working. And, since we are heading east to Pittsburgh PA, and I am the farthest one west, I would be one of the drivers for the four of us. I am going to pick my boss up and then the other two auditors will ride in another car.

So far, I was on board with this plan. THEN he goes on to ask if I could pick him up at about 6:30 a.m. on Monday since Pittsburgh is another two hours beyond him yet! Are you kidding me? 6:30 a.m.??? I laughed at that! Hey, call it what you will a leave of absense or a vacation, but in the last three weeks or so, I haven't been out of bed before 8:00 a.m. Now he expects me on my first day back to leave my house at 5:30 a.m. to be at his house at 6:30 a.m.?? HA!

I told him I'd get back to him on that one. If I'm in his driveway at 6:30 a.m. then I was able to make it. If he doesn't see me there, he should expect I'll be late!

If anyone wants to make bets on this one, don't bet on me being on time. Some things never change and one of those things is, I am my Father's daughter. Like him, I will probably be late!

NATIONAL LEAGUE CENTRAL CHAMPS!!!

The Cubs have won the National League Central Division!!! I know, it's hard to believe! Now, on to the playoffs!

Let's party like it's 1908 (the last time the Cubs were World Series champs)!!!

GO CUBS!

W W J D

Last week my friend Karen took me to lunch. We went to the Applebee's by our office. Ok, I can't help it. I love Applebee's. I love both items they have on their menu. I love the spicy orange glazed chicken bowl and I love the Oriental Chicken wrap. I really don't think they have anything else on their menu.

Anyway, Karen and I were sitting in a booth and I happened to look over her shoulder at the woman sitting in the booth behind her. There was something big and black on the lady's shoulder and I asked Karen to turn around and tell me what that was. (I've been wearing my glasses lately not my contacts and the vision isn't 20/20 anymore in my glasses!)

Karen turned to look then calmly turned to tell me that it was a bee. I can't believe there was not panic at my table, especially from me.

"A bee, huh?" I asked.

"Yes, a bee" she replied.

Both of us women, very calm. "Hmm. What should we do?"

When faced with a crisis such as this, it's best to discuss how to handle the situation without causing a riot and that's what we did. Personally, my choices were for Karen to turn around and smack the bee off of the nice, elderly lady. As my niece JoBeth taught me, it's better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission. Besides, it was Karen's side of the table so it was her hand swatting the bee, not mine. It was either that, or pretend the bee isn't there and let it be and hope for the best.

Karen, always the practical one, thought she should tap the lady on the opposite shoulder and tell her about the bee and ask her if she can swat the bee away. Personally, if that were me being told I had a bee on my shoulder, I'd start screaming and probably get stung in the process. However, since it was on Karen's side of the booth, she got to choose what to do about the bee.

Very calmly, Karen turned and tapped the lady on her shoulder and told her about the bee and asked if the lady would mind if she would swat at the bee.

The lady, a little less calmly, told Karen to go ahead and swat at the bee, thank you. Karen gave it quite a swat. Such a swat actually, that the bee ended up on the table across the aisle! Luckily, no one was sitting at that table.

The four of us watched the bee shake off the personal attack and then fly away, no harm no foul.

The lady thanked Karen for saving her life! Then I had to open my big mouth and tell her that my choices were to smack the lady and then tell her about the bee or to just leave the bee alone and hope for the best.

Yeah, a picture is worth a thousand words. I wish I'd had my camera on me. I'm thinking that lady was really happy she sat on THAT side of the booth instead of on my side.

He Can't Be Gone

My Dad died - Thursday morning, 4:50 a.m. I want to write about this, but I just can't. He's gone and tomorrow I'm supposed to suck it up and go back to work and go on with life and play like everything is fine. You wanna know something? Everything is not fine.

I'm nobody's baby girl anymore. I'm no ones daughter anymore. But everything is supposed to be back to normal tomorrow.

What Does It All Mean?

My good friend Maura and I used to play this game. It's called What Does It All Mean? I have been known to have some pretty freaky dreams. Maura in turn would try to interpret these dreams. Usually, she'd come up with some really off the wall interpretation about my dream that would have the both of us in stitches. Her stories were well worth any pain of the dreams, let me tell you.

However last night, I think I really had a doozy. Keep in mind, no drugs or alcohol were involved, but I did have pepperoni pizza for dinner.

I dreamed that Ron and I were laying naked on our couch. Also with us was George Lopez, who was in a thong, not naked. When I asked him in the dream why he was wearing a thong, he said it was because Ron was naked. Ok, in my dream that made perfect sense.

But, why George Lopez? I've never seen his sitcom, but I have enjoyed his stand up routine on HBO a long long time ago. I've seen him on Letterman or one of those talk shows and that is the extent of my knowledge of George Lopez.

I may not know exactly what my dream meant but I do know this:

Our couch is no way big enough for three mostly naked people to lay on.

I need to hurry home tonight and get to bed early. I need to see how THAT one came out.

It's Everywhere!

Usually when you buy a house, you “negotiate” a few items, complain about the buyer/seller’s points of negotiation, and once the papers are signed and the keys are passed across the table, you never see that person again.

That was not the case when we got our house.

The previous owner of our house was Larry. Larry had bought this house after it had sat empty for about five years. He totally remodeled my house, knocking down walls, building new rooms, new electric, new siding, new furnace, new air conditioner, new windows upstairs, and new sheet rock. It’s barely recognizable from the before pictures we’ve seen. And, he did a great job.

When we went to view the house, Larry himself took us room by room explaining a lot of what he had done to each room. It was really like a living extension of him, this house. I’m not exactly sure why they sold it, but I think as soon as all of our points were negotiated and the papers were signed, he was regretting the sale. He was going to miss his house.

When we did the walk through after the closing (yeah, Ohio is weird about taking possession after the closing. The house isn’t mine until about three days AFTER the closing. Dumb.) Larry really went into detail about all he had done to the house and he gently touched every wall he put up in the house. He also told us about the next projects that he had planned to do, in case we wanted to follow through with them. What can I say, the man had a vision

He looked so sad at the walk through, that I told him he’d always be welcome to come back and visit any time. Who knew that would be the start of a great friendship? Larry in turn offered that any work we wanted to do on the house, he’d be glad to come over and work on it.

Now, almost four years later, he and his wife Linda are truly two of our closest friends. They are really great people. And, true to his word, Larry has been over and helped Ron with a lot of projects, like blowing the insulation into the attic floor and putting in the glass block windows in the basement. Larry also has plans for the back deck he thinks we should build! On the other hand, Ron is right there with his tool belt on any time Larry has a project at his house too; it works both ways.

They have been a blessing in our lives, for sure. The guys have become great friends themselves and like I said, the four of us have a lot of fun together. We are similar in a lot of ways, right down to our bat!

Larry called me last Friday afternoon and asked how our bat situation was working out. I told him that we decided to forego the Batman and Ron worked on plugging up all the holes himself. That seems to have helped as we haven’t seen any bats in a week or so. Larry told me he found my bat.

That morning, he heard his cats downstairs making a ruckus. He went down at oh-dark-thirty to check on them when he thought he felt something go by him. Sure enough, when he turned a light on, there was a bat in his living room. Hey, at least when the bat was in my house, he was only in the attic and basement! He tried to chase the bat and catch him but to no avail. The bat was too fast for him. Eventually, he realized that he no longer saw the bat anywhere and the cats had calmed down as well.

One of the cats was by the fireplace looking at it. Sure enough, Larry saw that the flue was open on the fireplace. Here’s hoping that’s not only how the bat got into the house but also how it got back out again as well.

Now I’m getting blamed for sending my bat to their house. What can I say? Better their house than ours!

Dad Update

Last Saturday I got a call from my brother Jim that an ambulance had been called to transport my Dad to the hospital.

The nursing home had a hard time getting a reading on his blood pressure Saturday morning. After numerous attempts, a wrist cuff was brought out and it got a reading of 80/34. Since that is way lower than it should be, the ambulance was called, and then the family was called.

As soon as I hung up with Jim, I called my brother Michael who lives close by me. There was no hesitation; we were heading to Erie. After a fast shower, I was on the road to first pick Michael up then on to Erie. For the two hour drive, we spent part of the time on the “what if” discussion. What if this is it? What if Dad doesn’t make it? What if? What if?

Reality tells us that at 83 years young and in poor health that “what if” is soon to be a reality. I don’t care how old you are or what the circumstances, facing the loss of a parent is not easy.

We finally get to the ER and Dad’s face lights up when he sees me. I can’t lie – that is a memory I will keep with me forever. I know it’s just that he doesn’t see me every day, so it’s a surprise when my mug is in front of his face. But, in my version of the story, he is happy I’m there.

We find out from the Doctor that when EMS picked Dad up, they had no trouble getting a reading on his blood pressure. I was watching the heart monitor they had him on in the ER and his pressure is running steady at about 124/54. A ton better than what the nursing home had read. Doctor said she was ready to release Dad back to the home had it not been for the raging urinary tract infection he has. That seems to be a constant in his life.

The decision is made that the hospital will keep Dad a few days to watch him, under the guise of treating the urinary tract infection.

Once we realized that Dad was doing a little better than was first reported, and that this wasn't going to be the "what if" day, our moods lightened. We spent the day with Dad pretty much watching him sleep. Once he was put in his room, had some dinner, and was in for the night, Michael and I left.

We headed up to where our brother Jim works. It sucks that the poor guy has to work every weekend! The good thing is no one else is generally in the building with him, so we all had a nice family talk. We talked with Jim for quite awhile and then it was time for the two hour drive home.

Michael and I had a deal. I drove on the way to Erie and then he was going to drive us back home. That's only fair. Michael napped on the way in, I planned on sleeping in the way back!

Um, he did make it kind of difficult to catch a few winks. There is something about driving a car that's not yours. Can you believe that a grown man like my brother was actually screeching my tires in the parking lot while trying to do donuts? Dude! C'mon now! Well, that's it. Next time we drive to Erie together, we're taking his car. I always wanted to see if I could get a car up on two wheels and drive.

Not A Morning Person

I knew I couldn’t be the only person to not like mornings. Hey, I have nothing against sunrises; I’d just rather see them when I’m going to bed at night and not when I’m getting up in the morning.

My drive to the current audit finds me on the turnpike every day. Some of the toll booths when exiting the turnpike are now equipped with automatic booths with no attendant. Personally, I like the face to face when I’m forced to pay money. Other days, the lines at the face to face booths can be quite long while the automatic booths are empty. I’m no dummy. I’ll take the short line.

The booths really are user friendly. If you’re too lazy to read the big screen that’s telling you what to do, just follow the huge numbers plastered on the front of the booth. Number one tells you to insert your ticket. Number two is payment. You can either put cash into the machine or a credit card or a toll card. Number three is to take your change and number four is an optional receipt. (Don’t get me started on this one! My employer won’t reimburse me without a receipt for a $.50 toll. Yeah, I’m gonna get rich quick bilking them for my tolls. But, I digress.)

Thursday morning, I was running late and by the time I got to the toll booths, it’s rush hour and the lines at the toll booths were pretty long. The automatic lane only had one car already at the machine so I pulled in behind her. I watched her at least 10 times try to put her dollar in the machine. The machine is not very sensitive. It will take raggedy old bills the same as it will take fresh new ones. However, this machine was not cooperating with her.

I’m sure she was getting nervous with me behind her, but I was enjoying the show. The machine would spit the bill back out to her, she’d turn it around and try again. Another spit out, another turn. I was almost ready to give her a dollar of mine seeing as how I was already late for work.

Then the light dawned on her. She inserted her toll ticket first. THEN the machine gladly took her money.

Yeah, I know honey. All those bells and whistles so early in the morning just suck - for you anyway. Thanks for the chuckle.

I Got Lost On My Way To Pee

You know, this kind of stuff only happens to me.

A few weeks ago, JC Penney’s was running a great sale. We went crazy over there and bought window coverings for the living room as well as another new bed. As far as the bed goes, maybe the third time is the charm. Heaven knows we’ve had our issues with the two beds we’ve had previously!

Anyway, now it’s the bed shuffle. We had a double bed in the spare room and our room had a queen sized bed. Now we’re moving our bed to the spare room and we’ll put the double bed in storage in the attic in the hopes that someone can use it eventually. It’s a good bed and the only bed I own that even has a headboard! Anyway, the new bed was to be delivered this morning between 7 and 11. Yikes. That meant a lot of work to be done this morning.

I don’t think either Ron or I are great morning people, so luckily he had the great idea of getting everything moved last night. We took the double bed and propped it for now up against a wall until I can get protective covers for it before putting it in the attic. Our bed we moved to the spare room and had our room empty for the delivery of the new bed.

Now the fun begins. The queen sized bed in the spare room sure made me realize that the spare room really is smaller than our room. The bed fits ok, but there is not a lot of extra room around it anymore. You can now only get in and out on one side instead of both sides like you could with the smaller bed. The main problem with that is it just makes it harder to make the bed, but that’s ok, we’ll deal with that.

So last night, we slept in the spare room. That was just plain weird! I know, we’ve lived in this house almost four years now and I’ve never slept in that room. We got in bed and I ended up being by the wall. Part of me kinda like that part. I felt safe in my corner, like the closet monsters or the ghosts of the house or even the bats couldn’t get at me. Ron offered to switch sides with me since the night stand with the alarm clock was on his side of the bed, but that just seemed wrong to me. I have to sleep on MY side of the bed.

I did set the alarm on my phone to wake me up and I put the phone on the window sill. I spent the night hoping I didn’t knock it off of the window sill with my leg and have it end up unreachable under the bed! I was so worried about oversleeping this morning that I was up way before the alarm was ready to go off. Ron is extremely lucky. That phone alarm is really annoying.

It was a backwards night. Our heads were facing the opposite way in this bed. We usually have our heads pointed to the south. This time, we pointed to the north. The middle of the night bathroom break should be out the door and to the left. This time out the door and to the left had me into a wall. That’s very rude at three in the morning.

Even turned around with my head pointed the wrong way and having to crawl to the bottom of the bed to get out, I think I had the best night of sleep I’ve had in a long time.

Who knows? Maybe it’s not the bed and I’ve had it wrong this whole time. Maybe my head should be on the north wall instead of the south wall. Maybe our room should be on the east side of the house and not the west side. Maybe I’m just gonna switch rooms and the new bed in the master bedroom will now be the guest room. Maybe.

Naw. Getting lost on the way back from the bathroom once in my life is enough.

Want A Fry With That?

A lot has happened in our little fish world since the last time I’ve blogged about them.

My brother Philip was visiting a few weeks ago. One evening, we were all watching TV with Philip sitting on the end of the couch closest to the fish tank. He said he kept seeing a baby fish darting out from under a rock. Of course, we all went running over there to see for ourselves. Believe it or not, we had one baby fry in the tank, living under the flat rock at the bottom. We were elated! He was a tiny little thing, already had the orange/red color of his parents (the red wag platys) and we truly celebrated the fry sighting.

Every evening we would check that tank and scour the bottom for our little baby. Every evening we saw him, we would all hoot and holler and do our “baby-fish-happy-dance”. Yeah, I know, I need a life.

The night Philip headed back to sunny California, Ron and I were watching the fish tank. And, miracle of miracles, we saw even more fry in the tank! Between the extra rocks that were put in the tank plus the extra plants and the marbles, I think we at least gave these babies a better chance of hiding from that angel fish. I know, I should remove the babies or the angel, but I really can’t take on the added responsibility of yet another tank in the house. So, for now, we’re letting nature take its course. We will give every advantage we can for the babies and hopefully there will be more to come.

For now, there are either four or five live fry in the tank. The largest is now just under an inch long and they go down in size to about a half inch long. There were five confirmed at one time, but now the most I can see at one time is four. The fifth could still be hiding when I’m trying to count them, I’m not sure. They still have a long way to go, but some things don’t change. At least once a night we are at the tank checking for our babies. Sightings will still produce hoots and hollers and even a “baby-fish-happy-dance”!

The down side of all of this fish tank is that this morning when I went down to feed the fish their breakfast, I was greeted with a sad sight. Our largest male silver molly was at the bottom of the tank, with parts missing. Eww. I still don’t do well with that part. I know, nature and all, but cannibalism? Once again, eww.

I didn’t want to wait for Ron to get him out of the tank so I did the nasty job myself. This was a hard blow, as he was one of the few original fish we bought that started our tank community. He grew so fast and soon became the largest and most dominate male in the molly family. He was extremely entertaining in the months we’ve had him. He will be missed.

That’s Just Wrong, Page 11

Tuesday night, Ron and I went for dinner at Ponderosa. Not on A Ponderosa like on the old TV show, just the chain restaurant, Ponderosa. What can I say? I love their salad bar.

We were sitting there, minding our own business, enjoying a nice meal and nice conversation when I kept hearing this clinking/clanging noise. I was looking all around, I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Finally I saw it.

Biker/Cowboy Dude.

I’m going to have nightmares about this, I swear. I think my eyes bled at the sight. Picture this if you will:

Gentleman, over 50 years old, 6’2”, hefty build. Wearing an American Flag do-rag, (with his long stragly braided pony tail hanging out), a Harley Davidson t-shirt, jeans, cowboy boots and SPURS. Yes, you read that right, spurs!

That's what I kept hearing was the spurs clanking!

Ok, the whole biker dude/cowboy thing was hard enough to wrap my mind around, and then it got worse!

Outside, tied to a post, was a three wheeler Harley! That's just wrong on so many levels! A three wheeler? C'mon dude! One of these days you gotta get the training wheels off and move up to a two wheeler.

And, while you're at it, pick a stereotype and run with it. Mix and match just didn't work for ya.

That's just wrong.

Stake Out

Jim, our critter control expert (AKA Batman), showed up at our house on Wednesday afternoon. After a little walk around and walk through, he thought he saw where all the bats were coming in. Again, he seemed to think that the walls of our house were infested with bats. Since August and September are bat months (that’s when they have their babies) it wasn’t surprising to him that we would have bats now.

Ron and Batman looked in the basement to try to rid the basement of our current resident bat. Somehow, he got away, since even after a thorough search, the bat was no where to be found. Batman even looked in our coal room* for the bat! I know that’s brave, because even I won’t go in there and I live there! That door stays shut for a reason!

(*the coal room is a room in the basement that used to hold all the coal for the coal burning furnace that was originally in the house. The delivery truck would pull in the driveway, open the hatch to the room and dump the coal down a shoot and fill up that room. Then as the coal was needed, it was shoveled into the furnace. There are no windows, so now it’s just a dark creepy room that I’m positive is filled with all kinds of ookie things like spiders and bugs and stuff.)

Batman told us that we need to install these valves in the attic. The valves would let all of the bats out, but wouldn’t let them back in again. After five days with the valves, Batman would come back and take the valves out and seal up the holes. All this for the low, low price of . . . are you sitting down? For the low, low price of $1,680.00. Yeah, luckily I was sitting down when Ron told me THAT price. I’m assuming those valve thingies are made of solid gold or something.

Batman suggested that Ron and I stake out the house at night and count bats to see how many were really living in our house. He suggested starting about 8:45 and as soon as we saw our first bat come out, count how many of them come out for the next 15 minutes. After the 15 minutes were up, multiply the number of bats we counted leaving our house by 10 and that is how many bats are in the house. For the last two nights now, Ron and I have staked out our positions around the house. He took the corner so he could see the north and the east side. I took the south and the west side. We set up our lawn chairs and we hunkered down. Wednesday night, we were out there for 45 minutes. By 9:30 it was too dark to see. Last night we tried again, and I didn’t last quite long due to all of the darn mosquitos. After all that, in two nights we didn’t see one bat leave our house.

So, Ron came up with a great idea! Let’s NOT pay Batman $1,680 and instead, spend $50 or so and just caulk and plaster and fill up any and all holes that we think are there and call it good. Here’s hoping that turns out to be a great solution and that we find all of the holes. I’m done bat watching and I’m done being afraid to be in my own house.

The Bat Is Back!

This is just not funny anymore.

I’ve blogged before about having a bat in the house. Actually, we’ve had bats a couple of times. Ron has been able to catch and release the bats. Well, we have a persistent one this time.

He won’t leave our attic. I’ve been forced to call a professional. Once again, you’d think that would be easy, wouldn’t you.

I went online under pest control, exterminators and vermin. I’ve been calling for two days. Either people don’t answer their phones and I’m forced to leave voicemails which never get returned, or I’m told that they don’t do bats or if they do bats, they don’t do them in my town.

I really have been ready to pull my hair out. I don’t want to be forced to take things in my own hands. I mean, I do own a .357 Magnum and I even have enough ammo to take care of him and any little friends he might have. Sorry, just a crazy moment there. I think I’m back now.

What was I saying? Oh yes, a professional. Everyone that I have talked to that said they don’t do bats or don’t come as far west as we are, I’ve asked them if they could recommend anyone. That just led to more phone calls that didn’t get answered. Until, my new buddy Jim answered the phone yesterday. At least I’m hoping he’s going to be my new buddy.

Jim does bats. He’ll help us rid our house of bats and tell us where they are getting in at. The only bad part about Jim is the information he gave me yesterday. He said that first of all, if you have one bat, you have more. Ok, NOT what I wanted to hear. And, when I told him where I lived, and started to give him directions, he gave me that “hey! Wait a minute! I know that area!”

Ok, he was a little too excited about that. Then he said that he had just done a bat problem on my street about a month ago. Hmm. I told him that’s when our newest bat problem started! What the heck! Did he kick the bats out of the house he did on my street and just send them our way? I should get a discount for that, shouldn’t I? Anyway, he proceeded to tell me THAT bat infestation was so bad that the health department made the people move out of their house. Hello? C’mon now! I HOPE I just have one bat!

The kicker came last night though, when I went to do a load of laundry. Ron was helping me carry our two full laundry baskets down to the basement. I was going to go downstairs first with Ron right behind me. As soon as I rounded the corner to head downstairs, I told him I just saw a shadow downstairs. Of course, he thought my tired eyes must be playing a trick on me. So, he went around me and went downstairs to show me everything was fine. He was down there maybe 10 seconds telling me it’s ok when an expletive came out of his mouth and he was quickly coming back upstairs! HA! There’s a bat down there, isn’t there? He told me yes, a bat was flying around down there. Believe it or not, I was not happy to be right about this. I really wish I’d have lost this argument.

I dropped the basket I was carrying right there on the landing and we high tailed it back into the kitchen and slammed the door shut. Now what? I really didn’t want to leave my basket on the landing in full view of anyone walking up to the door, especially with my bra on top of the basket. I had to get it out of there. We waited awhile, opened the kitchen door and Ron dashed to get my basket back! Whew. It was a close call, I’m sure.

That’s all I could think about all night is that the bat is taking over our house. Ron tried to give me some cockamamie story about how the bat could have followed a sewer pipe from the attic to the basement or he could have followed the chimney, but I wasn’t totally convinced. I just know that he has me afraid to now go on TWO floors of my house. Only two left, and I must defend them with my life.

Getting ready for bed, all I could think of is the bat down in the basement. Then I remembered that there is a small space under the door into the kitchen. Way big enough for a bat to fit through and get into the remaining levels of the house! No way! I ran back downstairs, took a blanket off of the couch and stuffed it under the kitchen door that goes down to the basement. For good measure so that the bat couldn’t push the blanket away, I grabbed a box of parts that Ron got in that were in the dining room and I shoved that up against the blanket. Over my dead body and all that was I screaming at the bat down below. Coupled with a few good foot stomps on the floor which would be his ceiling, just to make sure he wasn’t enjoying himself in our house.

Ok, that made me feel a little better. Back upstairs, I climbed into bed. It wasn’t working. I lost my warm fuzzy safe feeling. I could hear the bat trying to get at me. I got back out of bed and shut the bedroom door and pulled the covers over my head. Maybe that will keep him away.

It was a rough night and we’re exhausted. Now we just wait for my new buddy Jim to come over this afternoon and make things right in my world again. Stay tuned. I’ll keep you posted on the progress.

Police Blotter

Yes, once again there has been police activity in our neighborhood. There has even been a policeman IN our house last night! Can’t get any closer than that, huh?

It started a couple of weeks ago. The neighbors I’ve blogged about before, two houses to the north of us (that have the killer dog) were broken into. All that was stolen was a 50something inch large screen television. The television I hear was purchased at Rent Way, and since the burglars walked into an unlocked back door and there was no sign of forced entry, Rent Way isn’t buying the “my TV was stolen” line and she is liable for the payments on the TV.

Well, I guess she then did what most people would do. She went back to Rent Way, this time for a 60” large screen TV. I guess if you’re paying on one TV you might as well get a second one. You’ll never guess what happened to it last night!

Yep. Someone again walked into her unlocked back door (the one by the dog as a matter of fact) and stole the second TV as well.

The kicker to this one is that it happened at about 6:30 in the evening. Better yet, I think I watched it happen.

Ron was out talking to another neighbor last night when the neighbor two doors down came over to see if Ron had seen anything a few hours earlier. She told him about the TV being gone for the second time. When Ron came inside, he told me the story. Dang, I couldn’t believe it. Who leaves doors unlocked, especially in OUR neighborhood?

I didn’t think too much about it. Then it hit me awhile later, that about 6:30 last night, I was standing at my kitchen sink doing dishes, when I saw a different car in her driveway. By different, I just mean it’s not her car. Actually it was either a mini van or a small SUV, light brown or dark tan in color and it was parked right by her back door.

I wasn’t trying to be overly nosey, like I sometimes can be. I was just watching out the window and her property is right in my line of sight. I noticed a different car in the driveway, but there is also a chestnut tree in between where I am and where she is. The best I saw was part of a vehicle, and legs in blue jeans. I couldn’t even tell you how many people were there. I’d say more than one, less than 10. No idea if they were male, female, white, black or purple. All I saw was legs.

Just after this internal revelation, Ron and I were sitting outside while Ron was having a cigarette, and the police drove by slowly. He had the spotlight out, checking addresses. I saw him pull into a driveway and turn around, and I erroneously thought he was just looking around after the report had been filed. I thought I’d do my good deed for the day and I flagged him down to tell him about the van in the driveway.

I told him I might have seen the vehicle involved in the break in next door. Imagine my surprise when he said “what break in?” I gave him a little run down of what little I knew and he said as a matter of fact he was on his way next door to take her report. I told him I didn’t know much, but if he needed me, I’d be right here.

Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later, he’s banging on my door. We let him in, and I told him what little I knew. Keep in mind; I’m in a mild panic that there has been a break in. This after the wonderful little elderly couple next door just had a rock thrown through their picture window the other day and our painter just had all the windows out of the side of his van busted out the night before. (Him and 12 other cars in his neighborhood.) I’m telling you my neighborhood is going downhill quickly.

In spite of my mounting internal panic, the police officer did not seem too concerned. He even said something like “c’mon now. You’d had one TV stolen without anyone having to break in and now you’ve had a second one taken?” Yeah, he wasn’t too impressed and I guess he wasn’t buying much of her story. But, he took my info along with my name and number and he left.

A few minutes later, there was another knock on the door. This time, it was the neighbor that was involved in the incident.

The officer had told her he was headed to our place as I told him I might have seen something, so now she came in and we chatted with her a bit. She told me that both TVs were stolen and both times the remote controls were left on the coffee table. She even brought the remove control over to show us. I told her what I told the police officer. To be honest, I don’t think she looked too upset about the whole thing. I think I’d have been a mess about it, but she was calm. She told us that Rent Way was still expecting her to pay for the first TV and now that the second one was gone, she was dreading telling them about that one too.

I don’t know what the whole story is, but I know I don’t like it. Whether she’s a slime that is pulling a scam with Rent Way or her friends are thieves, it stinks. I know I was up a lot last night. I’m hearing things, I’m imagining someone’s in the house.

We really do need to move. Maybe to Siberia.

Remember

I remember 10 years ago today.

I miss you Mom.

Family Tree - With A Few Warped Branches

Let’s go into a little background information.

I am the youngest of six children. The oldest sibling is 17 years older than I am. In a list, we are:

Me
Brother Jim, 5 years older than me
Sister Cathie, 7 years older than me
Brother Michael, 10 years older than me
Sister Barb, 15 years older than me
Brother Philip, 17 years older than me

Quite a group, huh?

As stated previously, Philip was in town visiting. He left this morning to head back to sunny California. So, it was time for the good byes. Wednesday night, we met up with Michael for dinner and Michael had a huge surprise for us!

He and his wife had been clearing out the basement and came across some old pictures. Now, I have been through Mom and Dad’s pictures a gazillion times. I love those old pictures. But, the pictures I’ve seen are either of Philip and Barb really really young, or pictures of all six of us. The best of which is all six of us kids, with me as a little baby in Barb’s lap!

Michael brought out whole new pictures that I have never seen before. Once again, family pictures with both parents and only FIVE kids, the youngest being Jim as a teeny tiny baby in Mom’s arms. First, that was awesome just because of the fact that I don’t think I’ve ever seen pictures of Jim as a baby. I’ve seen pictures of him as a little kid yes, but not as a baby. He was just as cute as the dickens, just like he is today!

Then it hit me. If Jim is just an infant, where am I? (Michael tried to tell me that I must have been taking the picture since I’m not in it!) Ok, I know in the scheme of things it’s an easy answer of I’m just not born yet. But then I got to think about it. Where was I?? Five years before I was born, I’m sure I wasn’t even a thought or a glimmer in my parents’ minds.

Michael and Philip were recounting stories of when they were young, and of the two of them doing things together. I’ve never heard these stories before. They had experiences that I never knew about and memories that I am not part of. I know this probably isn’t making sense to anyone else, but it was really a mind shattering wall I ran into last night with these thoughts. Before I was born. It’s a concept I’m just having trouble wrapping my mind around.

I know that George Washington was President, before I was born. I know that Napoleon had a complex about his height way before I was born. I know that the cavemen were battling wooly mammoths long before I was born. But to hear two of my brothers telling stories that I’m just not part of is just so weird to me. When we tell stories together, I either remember what they are talking about, or the stories being told are stories that have been told for the last 40 years.

Before I was born. It’s crazy, but this has just blew my mind thinking about it. It was an existential moment.

They Grow Them Big Here

Today is the last day of my current audit. This audit has not been good from day one, and I just want out of here.

I am alone here at the job site, and as it was my last day here, I thought I'd treat myself to a nice lunch. I tried to get my contact here to go to lunch, but he was tied up in meetings all day and couldn't make it. On to Plan B.

I took myself to lunch at a sit-down chain restaurant that is less than two miles away from the job site. I should have chosen better.

I walked into the lobby of the restaurant and there were two other women customers waiting on a hostess to seat them. They were nice enough to inform me that they were keeping themselves busy while waiting for a hostess by taking bets on if the spider on the floor in front of them was a killer spider or not.

First of all, we all know I HATE spiders. (Right, honey?) I know I tend to exaggerate from time to time on the size of spiders that have been in my house, but I swear, this one was truly the largest spider I have ever seen live. This gargantuan belonged on a movie screen, or in a Steve Irwin episode. It was freakin' HUGE. No lie, it had to be three inches across. His body alone was the size of a quarter.

The three of us backed up as far as we could go without leaving the restaurant. The first hostess came by and the spider was pointed out to her. She promptly screamed and then ran for a manager. In the meanwhile, a couple of other hostesses came by who pretty much yelled and stepped back with us. The manager came to the lobby and decided this was a job for a manly man. She called for a busboy and a male waiter both of whom decided that monster killing was not in their job descriptions. I suggested calling the police as they have been known to carry guns that could probably kill this spawn of evil. Surprisingly, no one really looked at me funny over that suggestion.

Finally, one of the waitresses came over, saw the spider, gently laid a menu over it and then with all the power of her 88 pounds dripping wet, proceeded to jump up and down on the menu! She got a rousing ovation from the crowd now gathered in the lobby until she picked up the menu to be sure she was successful. Ugh, she was.

I can attest to the fact that she threw the menu away so that no unsuspecting future diner would have to handle it. Even after the bloody sight I just witnessed, I still accepted a seat and ordered lunch.

Granted, I did eat a fast lunch as I wanted my feet off of their floor. However, I have a feeling that I will continue to feel things crawling on me until I can get into the shower tonight. I'm just hoping that the crawling feeling I have is only in my imagination.

Eww!

Let Me Return The Favor

When Ron and I go out to eat, Ron doesn’t always get to eat what he ordered.

Sometimes I just don’t care for what I ordered, and I don’t want to send it back since it’s not always the cook’s fault that I don’t like something. But more often than not, it’s just that Ron orders his meals better than I do!

I’ve been known to switch soups with him, or salads, or even whole entrees. What he orders doesn’t always sound good to me at the time, but when it’s brought to the table, I smack myself in the head and say “dang, I should have ordered that”. To which, Ron will usually say “do you want it honey? I’ll trade with you”. What a good guy!

After a few days of eating leftovers this week after Sunday’s birthday party, we decided to meet up after work the other night and we were going to have dinner out. Some times our biggest problem is agreeing on where we should go to dinner. Wednesday, we settled on Texas Roadhouse. It’s nothing fancy, but the food is good. Plus all the peanuts on the tables are nice to munch on while you’re waiting on your dinner.

I ordered what I always order; a sirloin, medium, topped with mushrooms with applesauce and steak fries.

Ron went out of the box. He ordered the chicken fried steak. That surprised me since I know the gravy for that is usually heavy on the black pepper and he doesn’t normally go for black pepper. But, hey, whatever makes him happy. I know the sirloin, I’ll be happy with the sirloin. Ron also ordered the baked sweet potato and the applesauce.

We had a nice chat at the restaurant while shelling and munching on peanuts. Then, the dinner arrives. I’m getting ready to start eating, and Ron tastes his meal. He is not happy with it. It’s not that it wasn’t cooked right; it was just not what he thought it was going to be.

You have to understand, Ron will eat anything you put in front of him. If it doesn’t eat him first, Ron is good with it. I have put some crap meals in front of him (hey, my cooking doesn’t always produce a winning meal) and he’s eaten them. When he said he didn’t like his dinner I thought something was truly wrong with it. I reached across the table with my fork and had a little taste. Tasted pretty good to me!

Ok, honey, I’ll switch plates with you! What? That’s never happened before! It’s always him offering to let me have the choice of meals! We did have to haggle a little on the side dishes. After all, his sweet potato was starting to look might tasty. However, he held firm that the sweet potato was staying on his side of the table. Fine. We switched the meat dishes and he was happy with my steak and I was very happy with his.

Wow! For once, I finally got to return the favor!

Checking In

What a horrific tragedy that has happened in Minneapolis a few days ago. These poor people, who were just trying to get home after work and the bridge collapses without warning. My heart is with the families that wait yet to find their loved ones still trapped in their cars under the water.

My heart and my prayers go out to all those affected.

Ron’s kids live in the Minneapolis area. They have checked in with their Dad and all are accounted for and were not involved.

Thank you, God.

Congratulations Grandpa Ron!!

Ron had some great news over the weekend! His middle son Derick and his wife Amanda are expecting their first child! This will be Ron’s first GRANDchild!

Even though the words coming out of his mouth said that he wasn’t old enough to be a Grandpa, you still can’t wipe that happy grin off of his face!

Not many things in life can top that kind of news! Congratulations to Derick and Amanda, and to you too, Grandpa!

Can’t Count

Speaking of Philip, after getting his glasses fixed at the mall the other day, we stopped at the news stand to buy a newspaper. Reminiscent of a previous post, I found out more people can’t count!

Philip pulled out his change holder, counted out some change for the paper and put it on the counter telling the clerk “there, I think that’s fifty cents”.

The clerk counted it and said “yeah, that’s it”.

Of course, I had to butt in.

“Um, that sure did look like sixty cents to me!”

Sure enough, the clerk didn’t even recount the money. He just agreed and handed Philip back a dime!

Even the great ones have a bad day, huh brother? I told you that this story had to make the blog!

Good Times For The Birthday Boy!

7/29/07 - Happy Birthday Dad!! Is he a cutie patootie or what!

Anyway . . .

My oldest brother, Philip (Hi, Phil!) flew in from California Friday for a little vacation. Well, at least that’s what HE thought it was going to be! However, Sunday was my Dad’s 83rd birthday, and we were having a family birthday party at our house. That meant that no one in the house was exempt from work detail in getting ready for the party.

We had a good old Slovak birthday party with some old favorites that none of us get too often. We had Dad’s choice of Mom’s home made chicken and beef soup. I didn’t make home made noodles to go with the soup, but I did find some nice fine cut soup noodles, just the kind he likes. It was close enough.

Then we had halupki. That’s Slovak for stuffed cabbage, pigs in a blanket, what ever else you want to call them. I called them delicious! Mary Jane was nice enough to provide the creamed peas. Y’all know that’s not one of MY favorite things being made from peas and all, but it always used to be a favorite of Dad’s to go along with the halupki. Judging from the amount he ate, I’d say they were winners! To round off the dinner, we had desert. For the birthday boy, of course his favorite chocolate cake with Mom’s chocolate frosting and for the rest of us, two big batches of Chex party mix! Yeah, we were all gonna be fat and happy for this party!

Thinking back now as I’m writing this, it hits me just how truly lucky I am to have the family that I do. We have our fair share of arguments, but who doesn’t. But I don’t care how much we argue, you get any number of us together in the same room and it’s going to be fun! As brother Michael likes to say, “Our family puts the ‘fun’ in dysfunctional”!

Like I said, Philip thought he was going to be on vacation. After meeting up Friday night for dinner with Michael and Mary Jane, the first course of business was grocery shopping. Hey, I don’t like to do it either, so poor Ron and Philip got to join in my misery and we all went shopping. Come to think of it, Michael and Mary Jane joined in the fun as well! As true members of our family, we all took turns in the bathroom at Giant Eagle, but aside from that little bit of too much information, shopping was an experience. I did break into song, both loudly and badly, but that was towards the end of the excursion so it wasn’t too hard on our fellow shoppers. We didn’t get kicked out, so it couldn’t have been too bad.

Shopping done, it was relaxing at home for the rest of the night.

Saturday was work day. Again, Philip thought he was on vacation until I told him to scrub up; he was stuffing five pounds of hamburger into five heads of cabbage! Michael picked the perfect time to stop over (He had to bring a cooking pot I needed to borrow!) and he jumped in with us. The three of us, between tasting the raw halupki for quality control, trimmed and stuffed all that cabbage. And, worthy of making my Mom proud of her kids, after the dishes were done, we took a little break. For those not in the family, that means a rousing game of three handed Pinochle! One of these days, I really have to teach Ron that game!

It took awhile, but my brothers finally let me win the Pinochle game.

Sunday, Jim was willing to take the day off of work and make the trip with Dad to come to Ohio for the party. Dad started off his day a little rough, as he didn’t want Jim to wake him up for the trip. But once he got into the mix of the rest of us, I think he really perked up and ended up having a great time. This was the first time in a long time I’ve seen Dad eat so well. He ate and he ate and then he asked if it was time for dinner so he could eat some more! It was good to see him like that. The best part was that my Dad turned down a nap so he could stay at the table with us and just be part of the story telling. You have to understand that my Dad would rather nap than do anything. And for him to say no to that, it was awesome! It was a great time that was complete with great food.

Monday, I took the day off of work and I putzed around with Philip and Ron. We weren’t in a hurry to do anything or go anywhere, but we did run to the mall to get Philip’s glasses fixed, then we had a nice lunch at Jackalope’s, sitting outside looking out over the marina. We closed out the afternoon doing a few touristy things around town.

As most of the people in my family are serious game players, no day would be complete without some game time, so Philip and I even got in some cribbage! If I’m not mistaken (and I rarely am when it comes to winning!) I am up six games to three. Go me!

Since all of that Chex party mix ended up being consumed, Philip asked if I’d make one more batch. He even offered to pay for the ingredients. What the heck, I love it as much as he does, so I told him that by the time he got back from spending a few days in Erie with brother Jim, I’d have it cooked up.

That was my plan for last night. It wasn’t a good night.

It was late when I was working with the party mix. You end up pouring melted butter, with seasonings, over about four boxes of cereal. Then you bake it on low to bake the butter in. You bake it about 1-1/2 to 2 hours, mixing every twenty minutes or so. When it looks almost all the way dry, I turn off the oven and just let the pan of mix stay in the oven. The heat from the oven cooks the rest of that butter in. I guess I was more tired last night than I thought. I mixed it for the last time, put it back in the oven, and went upstairs to bed.

This morning, Ron was actually the first one downstairs to put on coffee. He yells up the steps at me asking if I meant to leave the oven on all night! NO! Oh crap. It’s not a cheap snack to make to begin with and the thought of burning an entire batch just really made me mad at myself. Sure enough, the butter was baked in, but so was the burnt taste. Maybe I’ll throw all that out to the birds instead of in the garbage. I hate throwing that much food away, but it really is inedible. I am lucky I didn’t burn the house down.

As a side note, I usually really look forward to Philip’s visits. Mainly because he is the best snorer I know. Whenever Philip visits, I get the BEST sleep. I keep telling Ron he has to work on his snoring but so far, he’s still a rank amateur. Philip however, used to be a professional! He could shake the rafters on the neighbor’s house with his snoring! Not this time. In order to hear him snoring, I have to plaster my ear against his door and maybe I’ll hear it a little bit. Grrr. I should be able to hear him in the basement! He has so lost some status in my eyes over this. That was truly one of the greatest perks of having Philip visit. I don’t know what he’s doing differently, but he needs to stop it! I was looking forward to the snoring filling the house!

The only thing missing this weekend was our sister Cathie. She couldn’t make it in from California for Dad’s birthday but she is coming for a visit in the beginning of September! She’s no stranger to working at my house when she comes to visit, so she made me promise that I won’t make her help me with Roshki again (Slovak for nut horns) before she’d buy her plane ticket! Geez, some guests! The good news is that we get to party all over again in September when Cathie comes to visit, minus the Roshki. The bad news is that we really did miss you this weekend. But, not to worry, Sissy! We all talked about you a LOT!

Good times!