There was an error in this gadget

Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Husband the Hoarder

If there is one thing Husband  hates, it's a drawer that is less than running over full. Half empty is dreadful. Empty might put him in a coma, I don't know.

I have drawers (like in the dining room) that are specifically for stuff like table linens, napkin rings, etc. I have FORBADE Husband to go anywhere near them. 

His hands begin to twitch. He paces. He glances furtively from side to side and agrees.

Do you really think I believe him?

Ha.

So, about every three months, I pile everything he's dumped in those drawers in his chair and tell him if it isn't cleaned up by the end of the day, it's going in the garbage.

This works surprisingly well. But it is only temporary. 

He also tries to sneak his junk into my sock drawer, my drawers drawer, my bra drawer, my sleep wear drawer - well - you get the picture.

When he does that, I dump it all on his side of the bed. He likes to sleep in  his bed, so he takes care of that pretty durn quick.

He has the garage so full  only one car goes into our two car garage. 

He has his side of our little studio full. It's beginning to creep over to my side. GRRRR!

If you are one of our neighbors, I urge you, I plead with you, nay, I warn you: If Husband shows up at your house with a box, a bag or even bulging pockets, lock the doors.

I'm gettin' me a sign to read: BEWARE of Husband. He's full of it.

Friday, May 18, 2018

Blog or Rant?

I don't know whether to call this a rant or a blog. You decide.

Yesterday when we arrived home after taking Mother to the doctor, Husband checked the mail box. There was a package in our mail box.

There was a large, squashed, cardboard boxed package wedged in our mail box.

Husband could not pull it out, it was so tightly wedged in there.

Husband got tools and could still not get the cardboard boxed package out.

He finally used a knife, cut the end of the cardboard box, removed the contents, then broke down the cardboard box, thus removing it from the inside of our mail box.

Other packages have been delivered and pushed in our mail box, but  none quite so forcibly and none impossible to remove.

Were we upset? 

Yes, yes we were.

Do you know that when you attempt to look up your local post office's phone number in your phone book, it is not there? Only their physical address. 

You can call a 1-800 number for customer service.

Strike 1 and 2.

I call the toll free customer service number. There is a "twenty to forty minute" wait, as all were busy with other customers. As you probably knew before I told you.

Strike 3.

I'm a sucker, there's gonna be a lot more strikes.

I decide to hold. So I toted the phone with me while I: read a section of the local paper, flossed, brushed, washed and moisturized my face, put gunk on my hair, took my medicine and drank a glass of water, closed all the window blinds, put on my jammies, read a chapter in the Bible, read my Oswald Chambers devotional for the day, read an article in Guideposts, read a chapter in Heaven by Joni Erickson Tada, and cruised facebook for some time.

Strike 4.

After a 55 minute wait, a man welcomed me to the USPS customer service line. How could he help me? He was in, or at least from, India.

Big strike 5. 

Et tu, federal government?

He spoke English well enough, but still got confused about mail box versus cardboard box. At any rate, after a lengthy process he gave me a complaint number and said my local post office would be calling me by Tuesday or Wednesday. I remarked it was a pity that the local post office phone numbers weren't published anymore. So he happily gave me their number.

Strike 6

I wish he would have just done that to start with. As in, "Would you like to call them directly, or let me handle this complaint?"

I took the phone number.

But, Lord, I'm just too tired today to call.

Maybe after lunch.

Tuesday, May 8, 2018

Catch Up

Well,  it's been a few weeks. I know I ain't blogging like I was. But I'm trying to get this book off the ground, and between that and everybody going to the doctor forty-eleven times, I'm pretty worn out, plus sick of the computer.

Husband had himself some surgery. He looks like he was on the losing end of a knife fight. (Although he reassures me that if he had been a real knife fight, he would have won, of course.)

He had this teeny weeny spot above his lip removed. Now he has thirteen stitches, a bloody, swollen mouth (think duck bill) and a bruise running down his chin and under his neck. 

What he doesn't have (now) is cancer. This is good. Right now, it's just bad and ugly.

Of course, he's not been able to bend down or lift. He's milking it for all it's worth. He's developed this whine to his voice when he says my name that reminds me of a dentist's drill.

Mother, of course, had to have a run in with the hospital during all this. She'd been on antibiotics for a U.T.I. and it caused her to develop Ulcerative  Colitis. We had the joy of spending the entire night in the ER. But she is better now, at least for now.

Other Brother passed a kidney stone. I think he got an A+ for his effort, since the doctor said it couldn't be done.

I'm still in physical therapy for my tootsies. It seems to be helping!

We won a million dollars in the lottery. (Not really, just seeing if you are paying attention.)

Our car has to have a software update. Is that totally ridiculous, or what? 

Next step in the book process is to get a nice list in order as to how I want the book to flow.

And I'm still waiting on the CD to come back from being "pressed". Either it was really wrinkled or somebody in Nashville is listening to it over and over....or I'm in a long line at the press place.

Well, I guess that's it for now. If you think of something else, let me know.

Saturday, April 28, 2018

Father's Day Past


In a few months Father's Day will be upon us again.

Please don't mention this to Husband, as he will begin to whine, as he always does, about what "I did to him" on Father's Day long, long ago.

When Daughter was four or five years old (she is now  pushing 28) I suggested we go for a nice drive that Sunday afternoon. You know, just the 3 of us, our sweet family, on Father's Day. To sort of celebrate.

At that time, our road was a one lane, sandy trail more than anything. Recently "they" had come in, widening the road to a great extent right after they cut down timber.

This did not bode well for our wonderful living on this mountain all by ourselves life.

Anyway, I cheerfully suggested we ride out that road as it now went beyond our house, and see just how far they had graded and made a wide road.

We had a sturdy, 4 wheel drive Blazer that had only been stopped once, and that's when the blizzard hit. It snowed up over the bumpers and then froze it in place, rendering the poor Blazer immobile for several days.

So we strapped Daughter into her booster seat in the back, got in and took off. 

Wow.

We were amazed at how far they had graded. It looked like it went on for several miles. But as we went further in, it got muddy, so we decided, after sliding down a hill despite 4 wheel drive, that we better turn around and head for home.

Carefully turning the Blazer around, we headed back up the hill. 

(You know this isn't going to end well, don't  you?)

Even in 4 wheel drive, it just couldn't get up that slippery, muddy hill. So Husband gunned it. And we sunk up to the axle in mud.

He got out and surveyed the situation. "Okay, I'm going to find some wood and large rocks to make braces under the tires so they can get some traction."

This took a while.

"Now, I want you to gently give it some gas as I push."

Um, okay...

Did I mention it was a straight shift?

He began to push. "Give it gas!"

I did.

"More!"

I did.

The Blazer moved. Well, the tires moved. They spun like crazy. 

"Stop!"

Husband (or I think it was Husband) came to driver's door. I burst out laughing, as did our baby child in the back seat.

Husband was not laughing.

But there were those two big old baby blue eyes staring at me from a face totally encased in good old Georgia red clay.

We finally made it back home. I got the garden hose and washed Husband off. Thankfully, no one drove by to see where the new road led while he was in the front yard taking a cold shower. 

All but his undies were lost causes, we bagged them up and tossed 'em, because no matter what, that red clay wasn't going to disappear.

My suggestion is to avoid Husband at all costs on Father's Day. Or at least don't ask him about how his Father's Day is going. 'Cause I guarantee you, he'll start in.

Some people just can't let the past go,  you know what I mean?

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Talkin' to Myself

I know it's been a while, but a lot of stuff  has been going on. I won't talk about it because it makes me tired.

So:

I was mumbling to myself and wondered how long I've been talking to myself.  In fact, I said, "I wonder how long I've been talking to myself?"

And I sez, sez I, "Well, for as long as I can remember."

When I was around four, I recall my daddy walking into my playroom and asking was someone else there? I was puzzled. "No, just me."

I'd been pretending something or other and was changing my voice for different characters. That's a form of talking to one's self, I think.

I figure it may be because I was alone a lot to fend for myself in the play department. Being an only child until I was almost eleven made me use my imagination, which has come back to haunt all of you.

Talking to myself has probably saved lives. I can yammer on like I'm preachin' your funeral, and by the time I've stopped, I'm over whatever I was maddern far about.

It has made ideas click as far as "sayings" for my characters (sorrier than the bottom of a greasy paper sack is one of my favorites), as well as thickened plots.

Talking to myself has helped me remember whatever I've forgotten, too. "Now, where did I put that?" Surely you do that, too.

But mostly, I think, it's a form of entertainment when no one else is around. 

I'm pretty good company, after all.


Thursday, March 15, 2018

Coming Soon!

So much is about to happen!

I am to pick up the CD demo in the morning for a listen. If it passes mustard, artwork will be done and the CD will be sent for duplication. YIKES! I'm usually not nervous about much, but this my friends, has me nervous. 

What if I stink? What will I do with all those CDs? A person only needs so many drink coasters.

This  means my next book is inching forward to completion. The timing never worries me, because: a. What does it matter? and b. God's timing is always perfect.

ON

 April 19 at 10 a.m. I will speaking at the Captain James Kell Chapter of the NSDAR (National Society Daughters of the American Revolution). I am honored. It will be held at the Gilmer County Library. 

THEN

On April 21 I will again be honored to be a part of Gilmer Arts presenting Georgia Hall of Fame writer Terry Kay, who will be the keynote speaker this year for the  Gilmer Arts Meet the Author event held each spring.  A panel of authors, including me (stop laughing) will present.  Then story time, boys and girls, story time! The Kennesaw State University Story Tellers, and me (I said stop laughing) will lie up a storm as tales are regaled. You, dear reader, if so inspired, may also tell your tale. You have up to seven minutes. Imagine what you can do to the audience in seven minutes!  The grand finale will be Mr. Kay telling a story of his own.

AND

On May 5 I will teach a Beginning to Write workshop (you're laughing again) at Gilmer Arts. More on this later. But mark your dance card, if you want to join us.

On June 11 I will be speaking at the Gilmer County Rotary Club at noon, located at Harrison Hall. I think this is a free event unless you want lunch. There is a fee for that. If you're hungry, contact the Rotary Club and ask the cost.  

I reckon I better start resting up. Never mind, that's all I've been doing for the past few weeks, but I'm finally better and ready to rock and roll. Or at least roll.

See ya!

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Sometimes Life is a Pain in the Rear

I know,  know. It's been over a month since I blogged.

But frankly, life has been a big pain in the rear lately, and I mean that literally as well as figuratively.

I've been in physical therapy twice a week for a while and that's real nice and all, but I'm getting tired of it. At least the cast is gone except I'm supposed to wear it at night (Cue hysterical laughter).

I've also had two kidney stones and one kidney infection thanks to the first kidney stone.

I hurt my back so bad I thought I might just croak. Physical therapy put dry needles with heat on my rear (I told you life had been a pain in the rear), which didn't help. So I went to a chiropractor, a new one since mine is on medical leave, and he did one thousand things to me, including putting electrodes on my rear end (see??).

After scanning my spine ("Oh my," sez he) and doing a bunch of everything else, he said I'd somehow knocked my tailbone a'windin'. Okay, that's not exactly what he said, but you get the picture.

I walked (sorta) out with less pain but extreme stiffness. Thank goodness I was scheduled for a massage yesterday morning, and after she left I napped and got up feeling better. I still can't sit for long without gettin' stove up, but I'm better.

The chiropractor will see me again tomorrow to adjust me again and show me some exercises, the word everyone who is in excruciating pain yearns to hear. Tuesday I get a break so I can take Mother to the neurologist (if I can ride by then) and then it's back to Physical Therapy on Wednesday.

Somebody stop this merry-go-round and let me off so you can give me some money to help pay for all this mess!  ha!

I didn't bother to mention that the antibiotics have given me a severe case of the Green Apple Two Step, even though I 'm on two different kinds of probiotics, because that's TMI for even my blog.

And yet:

A friend, who is even in worse shape than me 'cause she can't stand upright without breaking something, called to check on me and just talk. Thank you.

And another friend purchased a book and mailed it to me from Broken Arrow, OK, because she knew it was my kind of book and I'd enjoy it. Thank you.

And another friend, who is virtually home bound due to a few crippling issues, e-mailed me and had Husband pick up fresh eggs from her "girls" that we are already enjoying. Thank you.

And I have friends who have told me they love me and are praying for me.  Thank you.

And a friend who asked me how I hurt my back and told me I was dumb to do that in my condition and not to EVER do that again. Thank you

And Daughter and Husband who fret over me, drive me to all these appointments, wait on me and never whine (at least in front of me). Thank you.

And to all of you who have patiently waited on this blog, only to hear me whine, but will read the next one anyway. Thank you.

Life ain't so bad after all.