Et il commence…

Aunt Dolores, mom (Ruby), Aunt Bernice, Aunt Gladys, Aunt Hazel

I will soon leave on a cruise with my mom and her four sisters who range in age from 65 to 80 years old. I have been instructed by Aunt Dolores, “the oldest,” that I am not to introduce the group by saying, “They’re all sisters. SHE’S the oldest.” I told her that I’ll tell everyone they’re quintuplets.  All born simultaneously. Like chihuahuas out of a clown car.  A true miracle of nature.

In the last few weeks, two of the sisters have had dental emergencies involving broken teeth. My sister Bonnie asked the other three sisters if they had experienced any broken teeth recently. Aunt Hazel gave Bonnie a puzzled look and said, “If I break a tooth, I just drop ‘em off in the morning and tell them I’ll pick ‘em up after work.” Note to self: don’t worry about Aunt Hazel’s teeth.

Yesterday, mom was describing our cabins to three of her sisters. I wasn’t really listening to the conversation until I heard my mom say, “There’s a couch in the room, so if anybody picks up a man, the other sister will have to sleep on the couch.”

Wait. What?

Aunt Gladys said, “Man? Hell, I’m on vacation. What do I want a man for?” She’s one of the married ones.

Aunt Dolores, “the oldest” of the quintuplets, said, “Bring them back to the room? That’s crazy. If anybody finds a man, go to his room. You people aren’t thinking straight. Don’t bring him back to your room where there are four other women.”

Holy. Crap.

I thought I was going to be concerned with broken teeth, broken hips and blood sugar levels. Now, I find I’m going to have to worry about curfews, bed checks and booty calls.

I think I’m going to need a bigger journal.

Pour être continue…

This and That

***

I would like people to be implanted with chips like the ones implanted in dogs and cats which identifies their owners.  I went to a funeral earlier this week and my friends and I were trying to figure out who some of the people were.  I thought how much simpler it would be if people had implants with their family tree on it that we could scan from a distance with our smart phones and know who everybody is.  What about privacy you ask?  Is anything really private anymore?  I'd rather people have my accurate information than make stuff up.

***

I would also like to have all of my medical information on another implanted chip so that when I go to a new doctor I won't have to fill out all those stupid medical history forms ever again.

***

When I was an AT&T customer, I was constantly bombarded with requests that I go "paperless."  I like paperless.  I always go paperless when I'm given the option.  So, of course, I went paperless.  Now that I've cut the cord with AT&T and no longer have a land line telephone, I get at least three non-paperless mailings a week from AT&T begging me to come back.  WTF, AT&T?  I'm now begging you to go paperless and leave me the hell alone.

***

I was born and raised Catholic, but I do and don't do lots of things that might not get me into Catholic heaven right away:  I'm divorced, I used to use birth control, I don't go to church every week and there are all of those sex things that I won't mention because my mom and my son read my blog.  If my fellow Catholics can't eventually pray me out of purgatory and get me into Catholic heaven, I'm hoping I can get into Methodist heaven.  I know people there, too.

***



This and That

***

I'm going to tell you people one more time.  After you park your car in the parking lot where I park every day, do not...I repeat...do NOT...walk out of said parking lot right smack in the middle of the driveway that I'm trying to pull into so that I can park in that parking lot. 

I won't run over you today.  I might not even run over you tomorrow.  However, mark my words, one of these days I'm going to be up to my ears with dumbasses and I will run over you.  Intentionally.  With malice and aforethought.

You've been warned.

***

I love the sound of a sizzle.  Water accidentally hitting a curling iron.  A coffee pot being put back on the electric burner at the office.  Checking the oil in a frying pan or an iron with a sprinkle of water to see if they're hot enough.  Bacon.

I can't explain it.

Szzzzzzzssssssssssszzzzzzzzzzzzz-zzle.

Love it.

***

When Ava gets in the top of her wooden swingset, she goes to the side, leans out ever so slightly and yells, "Top of the woild!"

Every.  Single.  Time.

I love that, too.

***

Ava and Lucas 4-10-11

March (and a little bit of April) Madness

I won the office March Madness Bracket contest!  No money.  Just cookies.  That's my bracket up there.  I base all my picks on instinct and blind luck.  I rock.


.

I'm Conflicted

I'm convinced that everyone would look better with natural hair.  No more weaves.  No more perms.  No more color.  All a person needs is a good haircut, shampoo and conditioner.  I think people would be amazed at how great their natural hair really is.  Most women haven't seen their actual real hair since they were about twelve years old.

I'm convinced that the world would be better without chatty disc jockeys.  I've posted about this before.  The only information I need between the music is the name of the song and who sang it.  Even that I can find on my own now with the flip of a Google.  Don't even get me started on the "morning zoo" faction of the radio world.

I'm convinced that we don't need news anchors.  That goes for local, national and entertainment news, especially entertainment news.  I read recently that a station in Houston has gone back to the old newsreel style of reporting the news.  Sounds fabulous.

* * *

My conflict arises from the fact that some of my very good friends hold these very same jobs that would be eliminated in my hateful scenario.  Most of the people who hold these jobs are not making a killing in their chosen profession and they've spent most of their lives dreaming of being a hairdresser or disc jockey or anchorman and training to reach that goal.

I'm a horrible person.

And, I'm conflicted.



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The 3 Stages...so far...of Caffeine Withdrawal

As you may or may not know, I gave up caffeine for Lent.  Here's a summary of my experience so far.

Week 1

I was tired, groggy and sleepy all the time.


Week 2

That shaking hand thing that I had?  The one that made me think I was getting Parkinson's?  It's gone and I no longer have a signature like a 90 year old woman.  Also, in a weird sort of way, I have more energy.  It's not a WHOA kind of caffeine induced energy.  It's more of a sustained all day long energy.  That's boring, but kind of nice, too.  I do miss that WHOA though.

I'm also sleeping all night long with no crazy frantic dreams.  I thought I was waking up in the middle of the night because I had to go to the bathroom, but it turns out I was just going to the bathroom because I was awake.  I guess. 


Week 3

Last week, in a three day spree:

(1) I ran a red light.  I didn't even notice it was red until I was driving under it.

(2) I read my bedside clock wrong and got up at 6:00 a.m. instead of 7:00 a.m.  I made my bed and brushed my teeth before I even realized what I had done.  Since I had already made my bed, I couldn't even go back to bed.

(3) I locked my keys in the car.  Bonnie and mom and I were eating fried fish at the KC Hall when I noticed.  I had to call Terry's husband to go to mom's and bring me my extra key.


To sum up: bad week, good week, bad week.  I have three more weeks to go.  I can't wait to find out what's next.  Or can I?


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In Case Your DVR Cut Off the Last Few Minutes of American Idol

St. Jude Thaddeus Bereavement Ministry

My mom sent me this bulletin from church:

Bereavement Ministry

Have you lost a loved one?

Losing a loved one eventually touches all of us.  If you have suffered the loss of a friend, parent, spouse, or child, the grieving process can be difficult at best.  Through this new ministry at St. Jude Thaddeus, we hope to help those who are struggling through the deep sorrow we all experience with the death of someone close to us.

Whether it's been some time since your loved one died or your loss is recent, please join us.

Thursdays, March 17, 2011 - April 28, 2011

6:00 p.m. - 7:30 p.m. in Room M6

St. Jude Family Life Center

(no meeting on April 21, 2011 - Holy Thursday)

No age limit.  Open to any faith.

Meetings will be led by a licensed Professional Counselor

I am the resurrection and the life.

The one who believes in me will live,

even though they die.

                                          John 11:25

St. Jude Thaddeus Church

6825 Gladys Avenue

Beaumont, TX  77706

409-866-5088



American Idol - Season 10, Top 13

In order of my favorite performances:

Casey - Unbelievable! Great stage presence and not a note off key.

James - Perfect! Not screechy and sounded beautiful.

Thia - Like the judges, I didn't care for the middle part at all, but I think she has a beautiful voice. I see her doing a lot of animated Disney princess voice overs.

Naima - I think this would have been incredible if she hadn't been so nervous. I really like her.

Jacob - He seemed so nervous in the beginning, I thought he was going to have a meltdown. The rest of the song was beautiful though. His pants were too tight.

Stefano - Sounded great, but I found his performance to be manic. Made me nervous.

Pia - Excellent vocal, but she bores me. I find her big notes to be a little flat, but who am I to say?

Lauren - Great voice, but I thought her performance was a mess. I like her though.

Scotty - Very good vocal, but also boring for me. He has a future in the recording business no matter what happens on Idol.

Haley - I like this girl, but did not like her performance at all.

Ashthon - Doesn't do a thing for me. She looked really beautiful though.

Paul - Love him, but what the hell? I thought he was awful and I HATE to say that.

Karen - Bad, bad, bad. Unless she gets a huge block of hispanic votes, she's going home.

Laurie Fixes the Mortgage Mess. You're Welcome.

On my way to work, I listen to Market Place Morning Report on NPR. It’s not as boring as it sounds. At least once a week, Steve Chiotakis has a story about the mortgage mess. If he would call me, I would tell him what happened and how to fix it.


What happened?

The housing mess was not created by people who bought homes they could afford and ended up in foreclosure due to health problems or job losses. It was caused by people who bought houses they couldn’t afford and by the banks that encouraged such idiotic behavior.

What else happened?

Lots of the same idiots who were buying houses they couldn’t afford purchased them with adjustable rate mortgages. How could anybody (other than the banks) possibly think this was a good idea? Who would buy something with the caveat, “Oh, by the way, that mortgage payment you already can’t afford? It might go up by several hundred dollars at some point.”

Whose fault was it?

The housing mess was caused by the people who bought houses they couldn’t afford. Period. Yes, the banks were making and selling bad loans left and right, but those loans were signed for by the above-mentioned idiots.  Yes, realtors showed prospective clients properties they knew the clients couldn’t afford. However, just because they make a pair of pants in your size doesn’t mean you should wear them. The same goes for buying a house. Just because the realtor and bank says the house fits your ass, doesn’t mean you should buy it.

Okay, genius, how do we fix it?

1. Builders must start building moderately priced new housing that normal working people can afford. Every house does not need granite countertops and marble floors.

2. There is a desperate need for decent rental properties in nice areas at reasonable rates. A lot of people jump into a mortgage they can’t afford, because they are appalled that they must pay a bigger monthly rental payment for a two bedroom, one bath apartment than for a monthly house note. How can a person save money for a down payment if they’re spending all of their money on rent?

3. Realtors must stop showing people properties they know the people can’t afford.

4. Banks must stop giving loans to people who they know can’t afford them.

5. Banks should require those humongous down payments people hate. If you can’t save enough money for a decent down payment, you aren’t ready to own a house.

6. People must stop being idiots. Renting until you can afford to buy a house within your budget might be a huge pain in the ass, but I’m guessing being kicked out of your home is a much bigger pain in the ass.

Pre-Natal and Post-Natal Exercise Program...In Beaumont!

   (Photos by Beaumont Enterprise) 

My brilliant daughter-in-law is teaching pre-natal and post-natal exercise classes for pregnant women and babies up to 6 months old at the Christus St. Elizabeth Health and Wellness Center.  

Click here for a video. 

Free for members, $5 for non-members

Tuesday and Thursday

12:15 p.m. - 1:00 p.m.

Christus Health and Wellness Center

3030 North Street

Beaumont, TX  77702

For more information:

Call: 409-899-777

E-mail: jacquelynn.conger@christushealth.org

(Pictures by Beaumont Enterprise)

"...or, maybe it's a rat."

When the exterminator was here the other day, he said the words, "...or, maybe it's a rat."  I'm not sure exactly what he said, because I sort of blacked out after that.

Last night, I got home from visiting my grand-fabulous-babies and noticed my rug in front of my stove was askew.  At first, I thought I moved it when I pushed my kitchen island out of the way to put my Lean Cuisine's in the freezer...the ones I bought because I left my freezer open yesterday...if you're keeping track.

So, I grabbed the rug and pulled it straight and it had been gnawed, about six inches toward the center of the rug in some parts, along the edge that had been under my stove.  Sonofabitch.  What the hell kind of varmint do I have that is strong enough to pull a rug.  Granted, it's a flexible rubber cushiony rug (that I spent $20 damn dollars on two months ago), but still.  That ain't no mouse.

I banged on the drawer to scare away whatever gnawed the rug and then pulled the drawer out.  At the back of the wall under my stove, there is a hole around the electrical wiring for the stove.  Bingo.  That's where the furry bastard is getting in.  There were pieces of the rug scattered about, but no nest, thank you Baby Jesus.

I slept last night, when I did sleep, with my bedroom door closed and a pair of blue jeans stuffed under the door. I had bad dreams all night, mostly about married people having affairs in the front seat of my car while I was driving and the people in the back seat of my car thought I was stupid to be annoyed by that.  What that has to do with vermin infestations, I do not know.

An interesting thing I discovered about having a mouse in your house is that everybody has a story.  Even the lady at the pest control place who answers the phone told me her story.  It's one of those little secrets that people don't talk about. 

When I had a ghost in my house, at first I was hesitant to tell people.  I soon found out that every single person I speak to about it has a personal ghost story.  It's comforting, in a creepy sort of way, to find out that everyone also has a "I had a gotdamn mouse in my house" story, too.

When It Rains...yada, yada, yada

My life has a rhythm.  Things be-bop along fine for months and months, then crap happens.  My current series of crap started with mouse droppings.

I woke up yesterday morning and there was what looked like mouse turds in front of my hall closet.  The exterminator came out and said, basically, "Lady, if you had that many mice, you'd be overrun with 'em." 

He picked up my couch, he looked under cushions, he walked all over my house and searched with his little flashlight, didn't find anything and didn't charge me a penny.  It appears I brought the mouse poop into my house in a box of things I got out of my mom's garage when we were cleaning it out Sunday.  I want to marry the mouse-man, but I don't suppose his wife and three kids would approve.  (Note:  If you have insect/vermin/pest problems call Guardtech 409-813-2297.)

While doing my own mouse hunt this afternoon, I noticed my dryer vent "hose thingy" was torn and the subsequent hot air blowing under the wallpaper in my laundry room was causing the wallpaper to peel off the wall.  So, I got on the floor, patched the "hose thingy" with duct tape and ripped the wallpaper off the wall.

That was after getting home from work and finding my freezer door open.  Everything was thawed out.  Everything.  Every Lean Cuisine, every P. F. Chang meal, every damn thing.  Nice.

While I was bringing out the trash full of everything in my freezer and the old wallpaper, I noticed the sheetrock about to come down in my garage ceiling.  Seriously?  Yes, seriously. 

So, I put the garbage out, moved my car to the other side of the garage away from the threatening sheetrock, came back in the house, locked the door and sat on the couch.  That's it.  I'm done.  American Idol, it's you and me kid.  Make my day.