Duck and Wheel with String

"I am not an animal!" --The Elephant Man

2012-01-30T06:00:00.001-06:00

I have been avoiding photos of my FrankenToe until now because it is still healing. My doctor says it will take a full 6 months to heal and the swelling to disappear. Until then, I wear a little compression sock on that toe every single day to keep the swelling down. And while you may think that it is not very pretty--I'm really glad that it is straight and that surgery was rough on the little guy--and his surrounding friends.

Everyone asks about the GERD now that my toe is straight. If you remember, my reflux (GERD) was really acting up before I went in for my toe surgery. My acupuncturist casually mentioned that the second toe is the direct line to the belly, and he seemed to think that my surgery might correct the GERD. Hmmmm....weird, I know, but I was hopeful.

So, here is the update:

I am officially off the omeprezole--the generic GERD drug for Prilosec that so many doctors are pushing on their patients these days. (I wish I had stock in the makers of Prilosec!) I did my own research and learned that you just don't quit taking that stuff cold turkey--it makes your stomach over-produce acid and makes the GERD worse. Yeah, I found that out before.....the hard way. I took omeprezole for 5 days, then 1 day of Zantac. Then we slowly (!) went to 4/1, then 3/1, and then 2/1 until I was taking only the Zantac. Now I have stopped taking Zantac except for when the GERD flares--which with much research and talking to others is a direct result of carbs (well, for me anyway).

Mix this combination of weaning with digestive enzymes (to aid digestion because the acid level is funky), DGL licorice(coats the throat), aloe vera juice (coats the throat), and a lot of carrot sticks (I dunno, they just help), and I am managing my GERD successfully so far. My tummy is still funky at times, but heck, it has been through the mill with 2 years of omeprazole. I'm sure we have some adjusting to do, but I am proud to say that I think that we are heading in the right direction.

Was it the toe? I don't know, but I'd like to give it a little bit of credit--It makes for a good story, doesn't it?

2012-01-28T06:00:00.002-06:00

While I got the official "okey dokey" from my doctor to start walking and even running a bit (what gave him that idea?), I have not ventured out for a true workout. Call me protective of that newly straightened toe or maybe just lazy, but I haven't gotten further than the back 40 (feet) lately. Okay, so Colin and I went on a hike a few weeks ago--that hasn't happened much since then. Sigh.

And I wonder why I feel so....bleh.

Anywho....while Hobbes and I were out in the snow the other day, I took a look around the yard a bit. I took note of the large amounts of opossum poopers that need to be picked up, the cut-up Christmas tree that is now mulch in the garden, the wee birdy footprints under the feeders, and all the poor little plants coming up--confused by this warm weather.

I checked in on the praying mantis eggs too. Yep, still there clinging to the branches....waiting for a cabillion little creepy bugs to hatch in Spring.

It never ceases to amaze me the tiny miracles that surround us. Even icky miracles.

Hello, down there....

2012-01-27T06:00:00.000-06:00

The opening around the pond heater was extra-large the other day, and so I was allowed a peek at our little buddies under the ice. There they were, all swimming around in spite of the icy ceiling above them. No sign of the frogs though--they must really be slumbering.

It always amazes me how those wacky fish and frogs manage to survive under that ice--even with the heater to create an air hole. It just all seems so..... you know.....cold. Brrrrrr.

It's a weird world in winter--one that I can't imagine those who live in warmer climates year round would understand. When the cold and snow come, the outside world sort of shuts down. We all hunker in our homes and toast our cold bones by fireplaces or just the glow of the TV. We don't see much of our neighbors (thank god) and it's like the world is hibernating.

When you live as close together as we do, winter is a good thing--we all need a break from the annoyances of each other. We don't hear radios blaring music we don't like. We don't hear squealing tires or loud motorcycles. There are no lawn mowers or leaf blowers. Heck, I don't even smell my neighbors cigarette smoke in my family room during winter months. It's all quiet--gloriously quiet. And neighbor free.

I imagine that is what it is like for my fish friends as they swim around under the ice. It's probably quiet and dark, sounds muffled and no annoying visitors like the raccoon or opossum to eat you. Oh, they still come to drink water by the heater, but there isn't much fishing going on during winter. Apparently opossum are not big ice fishermen.

I think we all need this time of respite--even the fish. It's good to just slow down, relax, and ignore the world for a bit. It's stressful that big 'ole world, you know. So, while everyone is trash-talking the snow and the ice, I'm sorta glad for the time off.

Hibernation is underrated.

I love Hobbes .....and snow

2012-01-26T06:00:00.001-06:00

After I made sure the coast was clear of cops and other assorted pains-in-the-neck (a.k.a. neighbors), Hobbes and I ventured out into the snow. One of us bravely lead the way, making trails for the other, less brave Eskimos.

After a little encouragement, my 47 lbs of Stripey Goodness met me in the yard:

And while the path was nice, he soon got bored of that and made his own trail. It lead past me and Em....

over a mound or two of snow....

and straight over to the pond to see if he could see the fish or the frogs.

The whole adventure ended abruptly when he sniffed the heater and a foot got a little soggy with cold pond water. Snow is fun--but only until you get cold....or wet.

After a half hour of playing in the snow and chasing snowballs, Hobbes called it a day and snoozed the whole adventure off in his basket by the fireplace. He is not a very good Eskimo.

Wordless Wednesday

2012-01-25T06:00:00.000-06:00

Who knew?!

I'm Heartless and Cold. Whatever.

2012-01-24T06:00:00.000-06:00


Hobbes is just cold.

Okay, what's the deal with all the bums these days? No, seriously. On my way to and from work, it's like the Bum-O-Rama. There are so many dudes limping, walking with lame-o cardboard signs, shaking cans, pounding on buckets, walking up to cars--doing whatever it takes to bum money off hard-working citizens. It's annoying as hell. Now just move outta the street, Bum Boy, I've got to get to work.

Now before you all say "Oh, that Lin. She is heartless and mean. She doesn't like bums," you've got to understand that these are professional beggars. They have been working the circuit for years. And if you were so destitute for years, you'd be skinny or haggard, or even dead, right? Nope. These guys aren't even losing weight or looking worse-for-the-wear after years of this gig. I think they are big giant scammers--which just makes me mad.

There is one guy that I have seen around the south side of Chicago for 25 years. Seriously. Not making that up. He's been working the streets, selling flowers to cars for over 25 years. And I know that because Joe and I used to see him when we were dating--and that was a long time ago. He's a scrawny looking dude with a long, hooked nose and no chin. So, naturally, I gave him the moniker "No Chin". And no, he is not of Asian decent, so it's not really mean to call him that.

No Chin has been seen in every kind of weather, working every busy street corner on the south side for years. Sometimes he wears a knit cap. Sometimes you see him holding a cup. Sometimes he's sportin' a piece of cardboard begging for food. But most times you see him selling flowers. But at least he's doing something for the cash--the other knuckleheads are just doing what I call "Bum Theater"--it's where you just look really, really sad and limp a bit between the rows of cars at stoplights and hope someone opens their windows to give you cash. There are some award-winning performances, I tell you. And people fall for it--every single day.

Criminy.

I have favorite bum these days, Limping Larry. He's the master of sad and the king of pathetic. Day after day, he walks all wobbly, limping sadly with one leg, holding a cup against his chest. And he walks--up and down the rows of cars. What gets me about Larry is that he actually passes up the newspaper dude--who looks older, less fortunate than he in his battered coat, and more in need than Larry will ever be. But the difference is that the newspaper dude is working. He's walking the same exact path, at the same exact time, doing something constructive to earn a meager living. At least he is trying.

And I'm not sure why the cold is bringing them all out. It seems to have started at Christmastime--I think they count on people feeling guilty or something. I don't --but I think you knew that already. But I do like that it is wintertime because it is a lot easier to ignore these goofs with your windows up.

Don't get me started about the summer bums who wear shorts to show off their prosthesis limbs for that added effect. Criminy.

Go get 'em! Or not.

2012-01-23T06:00:00.000-06:00

Hey! It's Monday!!

After a fun weekend of good friends, music, cocktails, a couple of hilarious comedians, and a bit of dancing at an Irish bar, I'm heading into the week with leaps and bounds!

Kinda like this guy:

Well, I'm not really. I was just trying to motivate myself. I'm never that spunky on Monday.

Or any other day for that matter.

Happy Monday, pallies. Blech.

It's a Marshmallow World.......finally

2012-01-21T10:14:00.000-06:00

Winter has officially come to Chicago.

We're in that phase of snow after snow, leaving no time for melting in between. The roads are cradled between the bumper pads of plowed snow, which just get taller and taller with each snowfall. The streets are also very white--not from snow, but from the huge amounts of road salt they pour on them. Commuting is disappearing lanes, snow ruts, and the reemergence of potholes. It's interesting to say the least.

But while all that ugliness abounds, the rest of the scenery is lovely. The entire world wears a little white cap of snow this morning. Everyone looks like a newly groomed poodle with a little white pouf on its head. It's all clean and white, unsullied by footsteps or dirt--its just beautiful.

I can't wait to get my boots on and get out there to take photos. And yes, I will be taking Hobbes with me, but we'll be keeping an eye out for the cops. We're rebels like that.

The Friday Dance

2012-01-20T06:00:00.000-06:00

Yeah.

It's Friday. And it's gonna snow--a lot. Which is great because I'm off work and I don't have to drive anywhere except the foot doctor, which is early in the morning, wayyyy before snow accumulation time. Then I can sit at home and hang with Hobbes and my Kindle by the fire.

Kinda makes me wanna dance. Like this guy:

Em seems to find this dude and his dancing hilarious for some reason. I dunno. Maybe it's kinda like how I dance so I don't find it half as funny as she does.

I'm just impressed he can even move with his pants so tight.

Happy Weekend, pallies. I wish you dancing and lots of it this weekend. (Even if it is just in your mind.)

I love Hobbes Thursday: Retro Hobbes

2012-01-19T06:00:00.000-06:00

Ah, the good 'ole days when he actually fit in his basket. I think this was taken.....oh....about 13 pounds ago.

Hobbes and the rest of us are wishing our dog pally, Abby, a very speedy recovery! Abby and her owner, Gerard, were attacked the other day on their walk by a couple of hoodlum dogs who had gotten loose. Abby is showing some positive signs, but she is badly hurt. Gerard got bitten up when he tried to save Abby. We are praying that she and Gerard recover quickly. We are also sending love to Karen as she is very worried about them both.

Get well soon, Abby!

And this is why cats don't have cell phones

2012-01-18T06:00:00.008-06:00

I have to preface this story with some background facts about my cat:

Hobbes loves the snow. How many cats do you know that willingly go out and stick their face in it?
Hobbes likes outside. You have all seen the video of him throwing a fit by the door to go out.
Hobbes has a basket by the fireplace to warm his body after he has been outside.
We love Hobbes....a lot.

Then I have to preface this story with some background facts about the police in Weirdville: (don't get ahead of yourselves here yet)

They can't find the drug house on my block, even though a high-ranking detective lives directly across the street from it.
They arrested a woman for child neglect at the local Walmart a couple of Christmasses ago because she parked her car in the front of the store to walk two small children to put their change into the Salvation Army kettle. She parked there because she had a toddler in a car seat asleep. She locked the doors and literally walked 10 feet to the kettle and back. It made national news for being totally ridiculous. They dropped the charges only after it aired nationwide and they made fools of themselves.
They are not allowed to write tickets to Weirdville residents because the Mayor doesn't like that. It's sorta the wild west because of that.
They can't apparently can't find the two cars that have been parked on our street for weeks--in spite of the winter parking ban in snow over 1 inch. The plow has to go around these vehicles.
Barney Fife looks good in comparison to this police department.

So, now the story:

I was reading and fell asleep for 45 minutes yesterday after work--Em was doing homework, so the house was quiet and dark. We both jumped to find someone pounding on our back bedroom window and a flashlight shining back and forth through the window.

Our hearts were pounding and we ran to each other. There was someone screaming "OPEN THE DOOR! OPEN THE DOOR!" while all of this pounding and flashlighting was going on and I told Em to get in her room. I didn't know what the hell was going on or who it was. I was scared to death.

I ran through the house to the back door, and as I did, I noticed a squad car in front of our house. My heart stopped--I figured Joe was dead. I mean, what else could it be? And why were they pounding on my window in the backyard? Why didn't they ring the bell or knock on the door? My mind was racing.

All that I heard as I opened the door to the 2 awaiting patrolmen was "Do you have a cat?" and "Do you know that this is animal abuse?" I didn't know what the hell he was talking about. "Yeah, I have cat...." and I was shaking....literally. "Animal abuse? Wha???"

According to these two I'm-typically-in-a-coma cops, they were driving by and saw Hobbes mewing at the side door to come in. I had let him out (on his own accord, mind you--he does this 10 times an hour) and fell asleep. He was outside in the cold for 45 minutes--and no, it was not subzero temps--he wouldn't go outside in anything really cold. And this caught their police eyes???? Really? And they noticed that poor skinny (?) kitty, abused, neglected, and tortured, outside? In my yard??? As they were driving by? Really?

Criminy. Is there NO other crime in this community to be investigated?

So, Em and I told them what happened, showed them the cat door, and tried to convince the orange stripey to come out from behind the shed (he was afraid of the cops). Fortunately, they did not arrest me, Emma and I did not go to jail, Hobbes did not freeze, and Joe was not dead.

And for the animal abuse allegation (without even investigating), Officer, would you like to see his basket by the fireplace with his blankie in it, the bubbling water fountain of fresh water for the two kitties, the stack of cat toys on the fridge, the plethora of cat food (just look at those 18 lbs, Officer), his uber-cool peace collar around his neck, his cat door, the assorted blankies strewn on comfy furniture all over this darn house, just so you can see how truly abused this animal is?

Yeah, I thought not.

I think that is the last time Hobbes will be calling the cops on us for not letting him in fast enough. I think he was more scared than all of us.

Traveling Candy

2012-01-17T06:00:00.001-06:00

I was reading one my favorite columnists in the Tribune yesterday and dang, if girlfriend didn't nail it again. She wrote about the odd things we eat when we are on a road trip--and only on road trips. I swear that woman writes my life story--well, minus the frog and fat cat stories.

There is just something about a road trip that makes you stock up on strange, quickie-mart foods. Things that we do not buy at the grocery store on a regular day is now coveted when you are on the road and making a pit stop at some divey gas/mart. We peruse the aisles like it's some gourmet buffet, when in reality it's just crap food that you wouldn't touch if you were at home. But it's so enticing when you are on the open road, with no rules or healthy food to hold you back.

Foods like Tangy Taffy, Corn Nuts (that nearly break your teeth), PayDay candy bars, and Powerade have all been known to find their way to our car, but there is just one treat that is the staple of vacation car rides in our family-----Twizzlers. And they have to be the red rope variety--none of those bite-size kinds or twisty-peel-away kind. We are connoisseurs of Twizzlers, this family.

I'm not sure who started the Twizzler thing for road trips, but it isn't a trip until whoever is driving makes the call: "Got any of dem dere Twizzler sticks?" And you have to say it like that for some reason. It's part of the history that is our family road trip snack-o-rama. So, we roll our eyes, and hand over the bag of Twizzlers, and then proceed to inhale those suckers like we have never eaten before.

While we all laugh about the stupid Twizzlers/vacation connection, I can remember my mom stocking up on Snaps when we were kids. We never bought Snaps the rest of the year--it was only for vacation, and only for the car ride. We didn't eat the Snaps the rest of vacation if I remember right. Nope--we had PayDays and Bugles for the actual vacation part.

PayDay candy bars were for the beach and the pool wherever we went on vacation. It was a huge treat to sit in the sunshine on your beach towel and snarf down that delectable combination of sweet and salty. To this day, we buy PayDay candy bars for the pool and the beach for my own family. It's kinda a history thing.

I think all of this trip/candy thing started with my grandpa, he used to pass out candy to all the kids in the car whenever we went somewhere with him. Oh, what a kick it was to hear him laugh as he passed out candies to us. We never got in the car with him without it. I'd like to think he started the craze, but then I read the article in the paper today. Apparently other people have "Traveling Candy" too.

Ms. Brotman wrote about her addiction (Hostess orange cupcakes) because Hostess just filed bankruptcy and the future of all HoHos, Ding Dongs, Twinkies (No more Twinkie Casserole????! GASP!), and fruit pies is uncertain. Imagine your traveling food gone forever? What?! No Twizzlers??! I don't want to imagine. Vacation would be ruined, I suspect.

It's one thing to have the kids grow up and leave us to take vacations alone. But it is a whole other thing to be Twizzler-less.

Who wants to be the mom?

2012-01-16T06:00:00.003-06:00

The most wonderful/difficult part of parenthood is the direct connection of your heart to your child's. While it is lovely in those good, happy moments, there is no pain like that of the one your child is suffering--because you suffer their pain too.....times ten. All those teams not made, friends who were nasty, childhood disappointments....they are shared by me, their mom.

And it never goes away--no matter how old they get.

It's hard to be the mom, I have to keep that you-can-do-it smile on my face, all the while they are doubting themselves--and sometimes you are secretly doubting inside as well. You make up it's-gonna-be-okay encouraging words and stories, even though you want to scream with them. And there have been a few kids that I have wanted to punch--just for the hurt that they have created....in us all.

The worst part? It's the smiling when it is all over and whatever problem is long forgotten. I stand there, exhausted, angry, disappointed, sad, etc. and your kid walks away--moving onto the next adventure, completely letting go of whatever just happened.

I had one of those moments this weekend. I dealt with nerves, anxiety, and frustration and then had to stop asking questions when I got "the look". When the dust settled and I called to check in--I was met with a "It's fine, Mom." Okay. Commence turning off emotions.

sigh. If only it was that easy.

Doo Wap Dipty Doo

2012-01-14T06:00:00.001-06:00

Sometimes I think the entire world is crazy.....and then sometimes I just think it is just me.

Em had to pick her classes for her Senior year this week, so there we sat at the kitchen table for an evening, discussing the merits of this class or that--and the downfalls of some of the teachers that teach those classes. Is it honors this or AP that? Do we take this class with this teacher or go down a level and get that one? It's all very complicated. Finding the right mix of a challenging class with a good teacher was escaping us on a couple of levels.

Exasperated, Em finally asked if I could go in and talk to her counselor with her--we just needed to know our options and figure out a plan. Sure.

But it wasn't so easy.

I email her counselor and immediately get the reply "I'm sorry, I am out of the office until the following week". That's it. No "If you need to get a hold of someone in counseling call such and such" or automatic email forwarding to another counselor. It was just "Yeah, sorry. I'm out on vacation even though I just had two weeks off for the holidays AND it is class scheduling time.Too bad for you." Sigh.

After a couple of emails to the school, I get a call yesterday morning from a very annoyed counselor who wanted to convince me that I really don't need to come in. Which really didn't work for me and I think I kinda gave him that message. It was a mess. I mean, what does it take for counselors to counsel these days? Or employees to show up for work and actually DO their work? It seems to be a theme for those around me lately.

I made an appointment with this guy (much to his chagrin) for later in the day. I swear I heard a deep sigh as we were setting the time--so that sorta miffed me even more. So, I asked his name again and he replied "Shama. Mr. Shama."

And the first thing that came to my mind? Shama-lama-ding-dong.

Seriously. And how utterly appropriate for this knucklehead.

I called back and canceled that appointment. And when I met with another counselor instead, I didn't once refer to the first knucklehead as Shama-lama-ding-dong. Not once. You'd be proud of me.

But I thought about it.

My Monkey is Exhausted

2012-01-13T06:00:00.000-06:00

There are just some tasks that may be too hard for the monkey. Seriously. He's doing his Mojo Monkey Magic, but sometimes, you just can't beat some things in life--and big boobies are one of them. Mojo Monkey's can't top a double D apparently.

No matter what my little friend throws to the wind, no matter how much havoc he creates, the powers that be just overlook it all. Coming in late, not showing up at all, messin' up your work, and creating controversy and conflict at every turn--all ignored. Why? I dunno, but I'm beginning to think that big boobies and dressin' like a hooker makes those in charge forgive a lot of sins. I don't know how else to explain it.

The monkey is exhausted. And I'm sorta giving up hope that he's doing much good. But, he's good company, so I keep him close.....and I hope against hope......

We may need to call for Monkey Back-up.

Oh....on another note: We did the super-professional drawing (Joe drew two winners out of a bowl of names) for the winners of The Bat Sanctuary donation yesterday and I'm excited to announce that the winners are......

Ann and Anita's Mom!!!

I was really excited that Anita's Mom won after her super sweet story of her and Anita swimming and the bats swooping in for a drink. Made me smile lots. And of course, we love Ann and Duke too! I think Marie, Anita, Ann, and Duke will be happy to know that they are helping some little bats survive.

Congratulations, bat lovers!

Snow Man

2012-01-12T06:00:00.000-06:00

The winds of change are blowing in today--literally. We are gearing up for our first snow of the season--a whopping 3-6 inches are predicted. It's funny how everyone is so worked up about it, it's all anyone talks about. I think folks are honestly excited about having some snow....finally.

There is one person I'm pretty sure is NOT excited about the upcoming storm--well, besides Hobbes, I mean.

On my way to work each morning, I pass this man riding his bike on the sidewalk. He is a husky Hispanic man bundled up like Nanook of the North. Poor guy is peddling like a fool, probably trying to get to work and stay warm at the same time. I'm guessing this is his only means of transportation--which is gonna be interesting if we have any accumulation of snow.

I look at that guy every day and I think how fortunate I am to have a car. A simple thing like a car--isn't that weird? There I am, all warm and listening to the morning news while he is peddling away, trying to avoid traffic and road debris. Gees, that is a tough way to start the day, isn't it? Just imagine what your hair would look like after a death-defying ride to work like that.

So, while the rest of the folks are gearing up for our first snow of the season, I'm sure my Road Warrior friend is probably dreading the morning commute. I'm sure his sidewalk trail won't even exist if we get the 6 inches of white stuff. Yuck.

I toast the Road Warrior this morning--brave, cold guy that he is. He is my everyday hero just for making that commute--rain or shine.........or in today's case, snow. Brrrrrr.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday - Well, if the cat likes it.....

2012-01-11T06:00:00.000-06:00

G'ma Phyl bought me a Kindle for Christmas, and while I was unsure whether or not I'd like using it, Grace gives it the official "thumbs up". There is something to be said for technology that keeps the cat on your chest undisturbed as you flip pages on the book you are reading.

Lil Drac ROCKS!

2012-01-10T06:00:00.003-06:00

Look what I won over at Your Daily Cute!

Snappy, eh?

Dorian (tender-hearted gal that she is) posted these adorable videos that show the good that is happening at a bat rescue in Texas. She was making a donation in the name of one her readers and that lucky reader was ME. Hooray!

I received this neon pink bracelet in honor of her donation (thank you, Dorian!) and now Em and I are fighting over who gets to wear it. It reads "BAD"--which stands for "Bats are Deserving". But I think that it means a whole other thing when Emma wears it. (Don't tell her I said that)

Either way, raise your awareness of The World Bat Sanctuary and the sweet little creatures they help by watching these videos. If you don't fall in love with Lil Drac, there is seriously something wrong with your heart:

*sniff* *sniff* Wasn't that lovely? Wanna know what happens to Lil Drac?

Yeah, I did too. Look: (grab your hankies--"sweet" alert!)

Dang. Isn't that just the sweetest thing EVER?

Thank you, Dorian, for the bracelet, donation in my name AND for introducing me to a great cause. I'd like to pass on the love of Lil Drac and his friends and do the same for TWO of my readers. So, leave me a comment and let me know if you are in and I'll toss your name into the mix. I'm gonna skip the bracelets and just do a cash donation--more money will go to the bats that way.

No, John, you can't have enough feet posts

2012-01-09T06:00:00.000-06:00

My friend, John, told me the other day that I post too many photos of my feet on my blog. Really? Because I don't think so--especially when you have great toe stories. I don't think there are a lot of great feet bloggers out there, so maybe I've carved out my niche. I think it's a brilliant idea--unless I start getting weirdo feet people leaving comments on my blog. Then, not such a great idea.

I think he is also secretly jealous of my straight toe, which, by the way, was revealed to the general public in a vodka gimlet induced toe-peep show Saturday night. Okay, so this evening also featured crooked fingers and spit balls (shot by the adults, I might add), so I think you can see that me showing off my newly-fixed toe wasn't exactly weird.

Well, maybe it was....just a little. But that toe starts conversation, I tell ya. Everyone has a toe story it seems. Or a crooked finger--according to another friend, Steve. I'd like to take credit for inspiring him to schedule his surgery to get that thing fixed. So, yeah, John, my toe is inspiring too. Me and Toe--we are gonna take on the WORLD. We are kinda like Oprah in that way.

And for the record, I have photos of other people's feet on this blog too:

Look familiar, John?? Hmmmmm?

If this takes off, we may be changing the name of the blog to Duck and Wheel with String and Feet. Criminy, imagine the header.....

Yesterday......Swanarific

2012-01-07T10:01:00.000-06:00

It was 55 degrees here yesterday. Seriously, I could have sworn it was spring, except I know better. When we've got "normal" temps in April, we are gonna be moaning because it is going to be COLD.

After my foot doctor gave me clearance to exercise again (rats.), I laced up the old jimmies and headed to a local hiking path. I grabbed Colin too--much to his chagrin. But it was just too lovely to be inside and that toe was just itchin' to get moving again. Colin was not itching to get moving, but he went anyway--which was nice.

We headed over to Lake Katherine--a local park that has a walking path around a small lake. It's nice there--quiet, scenic, and loaded with seniors, dogs, joggers, and moms with kids. I felt odd and not fitting into any of those categories. I miss having little ones again--this seems to be my mood lately.

My favorite part of Lake Katherine is the swans. Last summer, they had babies and I'm guessing these are them all grown up. I know nothing about swans, but I did learn that they are some pterodactyl-sized beasts and when they fly they sound like jet airplanes. What it takes to get those bodies airborne is amazing--the sound of their wings in the air is LOUD. I think I said that like a thousand times--which was sufficiently annoying to Col.

Here is the other thing I learned about swans yesterday--they are much lovelier in the water. Those big preening birds are just massive when they are out of the water. I just kept wondering if people eat swan--and how much white meat is on that sucker. Is that wrong? I mean, I don't want to eat them, but I could not believe how darn big those things are up close--they make geese look tiny in comparison. And what kind of pot would you roast that thing in?

It is stuff like that which makes Col roll his eyes and walk faster....ahead of me. He doesn't like to think about stuff like I do. Nor does he think I'm funny. Sheesh.

This is the best part of the whole day--just hanging with Col before he goes back to school. Okay, so this was only about an hour--I'll take it. I miss that kid when he isn't here.....a lot. And I think I said that about a cabillion times this holiday break too. He's gonna hear it in his sleep, I'll bet.

And just for the record, I offered to hold his hand like the old days--you know, like when he was little. He refused.

Sigh.

I'm not sure if I miss it or not

2012-01-06T06:00:00.004-06:00

Shhhhhh. If you listen carefully, you can almost hear them snoring.

Typically, I don't see a little frog head appear until March or April, but these "warm" days have interrupted the winter slumber party for a few frogs. I actually saw a little guy sitting out in the rain the other day--a rare occurrence for Chicago in January. It's such an odd winter this year.

Heck, January is a week down and we haven't had an accumulation of snow yet--which is really strange. I almost miss it. I think.

Remember last year around this time?

You know it's bad when you have to shovel the pond heater. I have to keep an air hole open so that the gasses from the pond can escape, otherwise the fish, frogs, and snails can die from lack of oxygen. I think we had 3 feet of snow over the top of that thing last year. Yuck.

I think I will stop complaining about the warm winter now. It's all perspective, people.

If only my box had a lid...

2012-01-05T06:00:00.002-06:00

Peace.

It does not mean to be in a place

where there is no noise, trouble

or hard work. It means to be in

the midst of those things and still

be calm in your heart. --unknown

It's funny, but when I saw this photo, I pictured myself sitting in my cubicle at work with chaos and commotion surrounding me. There I sit (for the very few part-time hours that I'm there) trying to escape the games of who-can-do-the-least-amount-of-work and ridiculous banter of conversation for the sake of conversation. I wear my headphones a lot lately.

Work is a new adventure these days, but I'm not alone. All around, I hear tales of this new, younger work force who don't really want to work, but put in face time to get a paycheck and benefits to move themselves along to the next place of employment with no regard to "company". Managers everywhere are not willing to deal with problem hires because doing so means documentation and action-plans that require diligence and babysitting. Why bother if we don't have to? If someone complains, it's best to tell them to ignore it or just to "get along"--good employees will do just that, you know. Now, isn't that easy? Problem solved.

It's a whole new world--one that I am not used to and definitely a big reason why I did not care to be a full-time worker and a part-time mom when my kids were small. I'm not good at this playing-the-game sorta stuff--it just makes me miserable. Can we all just work hard and do our jobs?

My life has changed now, down-sized from my full-time mother status, I'm slowly easing back into the work force--stuck now with childish behavior and silly manipulations to deceive employers into thinking that we are actually working. I sound like my grandpa when I say "If only they would take all that effort and actually put it into their work....." It's not a place I like to be, but what is the alternative? The cats don't need PB & J sammiches at noon, unfortunately. Sigh.

So, while I'm not big into making resolutions, I do have to make some changes in my own mind set to survive. Like Hobbes, I have to learn to sit in my box and ignore the mess that surrounds me. I've got to find that peace amidst it all and be calm in my heart.

And in the meantime, I'm listening to the likes of ELO's "Mr. Blue Sky" on the ipod to cope. I know, I'm a dork.

Find the Kitty

2012-01-04T06:00:00.001-06:00

One by one, I called each family member into the living room and asked them the same question: Where's the Kitty?

Some took longer than others, but everyone needed the same coaching--look up. Somehow nobody expected to find the 18 pound cat on top of the cabinet. Hobbes thought he was hilarious up there--I did not.

Apparently de-Christmassing the abode gets the kitties a little wound up--and one kitty in particular was finding every possible obnoxious place to be. He was having one heck of a good time. I was gonna kill him.

And while I offered to help him down, Hobbes insisted on a Superman flight to the floor--he's lucky he didn't end up with four very uncool casts on his legs.

Now do you see why the Lladro nativity is inside the cabinet?

Pointing the Paw

2012-01-03T06:00:00.003-06:00

Remember when I was all braggy that my cats left my tree alone? And remember how I said that they don't bother the ornaments or the wee village under the tree?

Yeah, they'll make liars out of you every time, those darn cats.

The other morning, I heard a small "thunk" in the darkened family room. I knew it was the sound of an ornament hitting the floor. So, I got up and walked over to where I heard the sound and found this:

And there wasn't just ONE ornament face-planted on the wood floor, it was TWO. And one of them was my first ornament ever--my Baby Lin ornament. Oh, the nerve of somebody furry.

I will point out that the Baby Lin ornament was high up on that tree. You know, I put it up high so just in case somebody got spunky, this, my favorite ornament of me, would be safe. Hmmmm......

And there it laid--face down on the wood floor, like that little angel-baby was drinking vodka gimlets the entire holiday season. But she wasn't--she is a baby, people. Sheesh.

So, I looked for the guilty orange stripey party.....

but instead I found this:

Tinsel still stuck to her guilty head.

Grace, of all kitties. My friend. My trusted pal. The "good" cat. Go figure.

The orange stripey bad guy was outside--and he had nothing to do with it. No matter how much she tried to pin it on him.

Sure, NOW it comes

2012-01-02T10:46:00.000-06:00

It's official--I'm done with Christmas and New Year's. Well, actually, I was done with it three days ago, I just finally finished packing it all up and sticking it in the attic. Sheesh, that is a lot of work for a few weeks of decorations around the house. I'm glad Christmas only comes once year, I'm exhausted.

It was frustrating that after the last box of holiday was shoved up the attic stairs, the snow started to come down. It's like it was holding out on purpose, driving the kids nuts with its absence. Now we have little time left to hang out and here it comes--taunting us with snowy white slopes, bitter cold, and glittery ice, perfect to skate and sled on. Sigh. That darn Susie Snowflake--she is such a tease.

Here we are, January 2 and beginning 2012. I'm not one for resolutions (or revolutions), but I like to start the year positive, acknowledging the things I need to work on, and I make a conscious effort to improve myself, my skills, and my attitude. I'm big with ditching the negative, not engaging drama, and trying to laugh just a wee bit more than the past year. I like Diane's thoughts on this--she's gonna stay light and just try her best. I think I shall join her.

But first I have to go shovel the walk....

Happy New Year!

2011-12-31T06:00:00.000-06:00

Em said to me yesterday "Hey, it's New Year's and I haven't made a revolution!" Yeah, thank god, because that would be scary having her lead a revolution.

Here's to a year full of happiness and laughter. Lots of laughter.

Pin Free in 2012

2011-12-30T06:00:00.000-06:00

You know you are pathetic when the one qualification for a rockin' New Year's Eve is that you get the pin out of your toe. Sigh. Yeah, sadly, that's me. But I am very excited to be taking FrankinToe into 2012 without stitches, pins, or surgical shoe. I will be glad to welcome in 2012 with a straight toe and real shoes....on both feet.

I typically do a Dead List right about now to wrap up the past year (you know, a recap of all those we lost this year)--but I'm happy to report I don't have a list this year. I think there was one escapee frog who spent a few days at the neighbor's pond, but even he got smart and came home. Leaving = death for the most part--frogs don't get that. So, anywho, we don't have a Dead List for 2011. I kinda like that. I hope 2012 continues the trend.

We took the family to see "War Horse" last night for a little fun family outing. Criminy--that is one emotionally exhausting film. Wow. While it was a good film, I wouldn't advise it if you are on anti-depressants. I guess I never thought about the horses they used in wars, and while this must have been a watered-down portrayal, it was hard to see what they endured. Em looked at me numerous times in the movie and said "Nice, fun family movie, Mom." Yeah, whatever. I didn't know. I guess I owe them a trip to see the Muppet movie to make up for it.

So, what are you doing for New Year's Eve?? Me, I'm taking the tree down, packing up the train, and watching HAPPY movies.

Hobbeszilla!

2011-12-29T06:00:00.000-06:00

Everyone asks, and no, the kitties don't bug the train or the village. Really. Maybe it's because they are bored with it and spend the day sleeping, or it's the periodic running of the train that spooks the crap out of them---I don't know. Either way, the answer is no, the kitties leave the train and village alone.

Both kitties do enjoy a good nappy under the tree every now and then, though. But amazingly, they don't knock a thing down. Not even the precariously perched herds of reindeer.....or random hobo camps around the back of the tree. Seriously, not a wee cow or tree gets knocked down.

Maybe they just know that I'll go nuts on them and it isn't worth the effort. Hmmm.....

I love when I go into the family room and just see a orange stripey face under the tree. I'm impressed with his ability to maneuver under there without taking down a building or two. You know, if I could fit, I'd hide under there too.

The fascination with the Pope and his pals is always short-lived---especially when you've got a comfy new blankie awaiting.

A big thank you to Anita's Mom who sent over blankies for both kitties this Christmas! They are a HUGE hit with the kitties. Hobbes thinks this one is his mother--a purple mother, no less.

You gotta get low to see the really good stuff...

2011-12-28T06:00:00.000-06:00

We're like kids when it comes to the train set and village--as Christmas nears, we start perusing the Walther's catalog which features all things "train". Joe earmarks his picks and I earmark mine--of course, they are never the same--and they are never cheap. I think you can figure out who picked what when you see the following photos.

Some items take a few years to come to fruition as the picture in the catalog and the reality of gluing a million wee parts come together. Take for example the tennis courts--meant for a train display, this bad boy has been sitting in the box for nearly 20 years. It finally made it to a balsa wood base this year, including grass, trees, and a sandy parking lot. I think it turned out pretty good for a moveable display.

Then there is the homeless lady. Every town has one, I guess we had to have one too.

Looks like Santa was at the depot picking up a new girlfriend. Sheesh, like one hot dame wasn't enough for the old guy? If Mrs. Santa gets wind of this.........

Two guesses who picked out the Santa Twins. Hint: It was not me.

The KFC, drunken goats, and Evita Peron

2011-12-27T06:00:00.002-06:00

They're all under my tree, believe it or not.

I finally got down under there (no, I wasn't passed out) to take photos of the train village this Christmas. It gets harder and harder to get down there as years go on--especially with a surgical shoe on one foot. But I did so--with some struggle. Sheesh, the things I do for your entertainment and mine.

While the village is pretty much the same buildings each year, we do mix it up a bit with new additions and placement of certain folks--that darn pope gets around you know. So, with much anticipation, here is a tour of our wee train village:

Street view: Oh! There's the KFC on the left!

The movie theater on the right. Look for the hooker!

For Pricilla and Melodie: We have goats.

(uh oh, looks like he got into the nog...)

For Daisy, Beaded Tail and Marg: We have kitties.

Looks like he's waiting for someone to let him in for supper.

Here's the train depot--for people who dress only in blue.

(Note to decorating committee: mix up the people a bit next year)

And......

(drumroll please)

The Pope!

What a nut. He found himself a balcony and now he's doing his

best "Evita" impression. Shhhhh....if you close you eyes,

you can almost hear him sing...

"Don't cry for me, Argentina....."

And notice who is completely ignoring him....

hooker gal in silver pants.

Criminy. No matter where that guy goes...'ole Silver Pants is never far behind.

(I think she has a crush on him)

You never know what you are gonna find under that tree in that village. Oh, there is more. I haven't even shown you the new stuff yet. And we have cool new stuff!

And in case you were wondering....it was much harder to get up from taking these photos than it was getting down there.

The Day After

2011-12-26T09:35:00.000-06:00

I think I like the day after almost as much as Christmas day. There's no meal to prepare, no rushing to get to here or there. The gifts have all been opened and the mess cleaned up. We all slept in and are hanging out in our pajama pants--no fighting to get in the shower this morning.

I like that you can eat whatever you want whenever you want. There is no saving the cheeseball for company or Christmas cookies for later--dig in, I say--even if it is for breakfast. It's probably the one day a year where you can look like a slob, lay around all day and play with your toys, and get away with it.

Even the kitties seem a little lazier than usual today. Moving past their morning kitty food, heading towards the couch and chair, Hobbes and Grace didn't even have the energy to swat one another. Oh, you can say it is the Christmas spirit, but I know better. They are just too pooped to battle today.

While I love Christmas and New Year's like the rest us, it is the day after that I think is the real holiday.

Excuse me while I head over to the couch by the fire....

Merry Christmas!

2011-12-24T06:00:00.007-06:00

Merry Christmas, pallies! I wish you all peace, love, and some fun this holiday season.

Cool Stuff and Disasters

2011-12-23T06:00:00.002-06:00

If you wonder if I really do all those wacky things I tell you about here at the Duck and Wheel, the answer is yes, I really do.

As I returned to work this week after toe surgery, I dragged in four bags of supplies to make gingerbread houses. I'm not sure why I get these ideas, but this year I decided we should have a gingerbread house decorating contest in the office. And why I have to do this after toe surgery--I don't know. It's just me, making life more difficult....and fun.

And while there were some initial eye rolls and snarky comments, I soon found the co-workers sneaking into the lunchroom to create their...uh...masterpieces. It was hilarious. Some of these beastly creations were almost too heavy to lift. And the competition? Downright intense.

I snagged a couple of maintenance guys to judge and there were 1st and 2nd place ribbons with prizes. We even had the requirement of having to move your house from the work table to the judging table--you know, like all those cake decorating shows on the Food Network. It was all....well...non-work-like. Which was perfect because nobody wants to work around the holidays anyway.

(If you were wondering: Yolanda, quietest gal in the office, won the contest. Irene's Pink Parfait Penthouse didn't even place. I think she is sad about that.)

I'm just bummed that these didn't fit on the mantle of the cardboard fireplace I set up in the front office the week before. Which reminds me--I need to get photos of that too. Sure, I got funny looks on that bad boy, but it made them laugh. I'm telling you, there is no ambiance like that of a fireplace--even if it is cardboard.

And speaking of wacky ideas....

I decided that since we didn't have snow outside, I was gonna take a photo of me and the kitties by the tree for this year's blog Christmas card. AND I was going to include BOTH kitties--not just Hobbes.

This was not such a great idea.

It got ugly..........fast.

Seriously, I was lucky to escape with my eyeballs intact.

And while some of my great ideas are just that (gingerbread house contest at work AND a spiffy cardboard fireplace---complete with stockings...), there are some other ideas that should......uh......just not go into effect.

I Love Hobbes Thursday

2011-12-22T06:00:00.009-06:00

Just days before Santa is due to arrive, Hobbes somehow managed to lose his snappy "Peace" collar outside somewhere. It might have been intentional to ditch that annoying warn-the-birds bell, because he thought he was super-stealth and all sneaky-like with nothing giving his whereabouts away. I swear he was smiling, knowing we couldn't hear his comings and goings.

Yeah/no.

That doesn't work too well around here, so I dug around in the kitchen drawer until I found a replacement--Grace's old Christmas collar from years ago. So, now he's sportin' a girlie collar for Christmas. And typical of our family, that doesn't go without a bit of razzin'.

I told him (loudly) that he now looked like a girl as I clicked it around his orange stripey neck, and I told him to go find his old collar--you know, the very cool, manly one. He didn't flinch.

Joe laughed and told him he looked ridiculous.

Em told him he even sounded like a girl with that little tinky-tink sound that the replacement collar made.

Still nothing. He doesn't care. Hobbes could care less if he looks ridiculous or not--he struts around proudly regardless. Nothing bothers that cat--well, unless he can't go outside.

I finally gave in and bought him a new collar for Christmas today--I couldn't stand the sight of that cat in a girlie collar. He just looked so darn silly--that big moose in a delicate pink-colored collar.

That's the thing about orange stripes--they go with everything.

Things to do when my foot is healed

2011-12-21T06:00:00.000-06:00

Aw, man....if only my foot was better....

Being Santa ain't Easy

2011-12-20T06:00:00.001-06:00

While my kids aren't greedy or demanding, there are always a few "wishes" here and there--you know, comments about wanting their own car, a bigger house, more money, nicer things. All things that normal teenagers say and want. And while Joe and I are not rolling in cash, we certainly provide a nice life for these two and they don't want for much.

But it is hard these days to keep your kids centered. With all the media pushing excess on every level, it's hard to raise kids who don't want for more. Heck, even I want more most of the time--I just don't want to pay for it. So, there we are, in our wee abode, trying to teach our kids that it isn't "stuff" that matters. Do they get it? I doubt it, but still, we try.

This week, Em and her friends "adopted" a family with the Honor Society this Christmas. Each of the girls contributed a wee bit of cash and they all went shopping for their family--a single mom with two small children. The girls didn't have much money, but their dreams for what they were going to buy were huge, so I matched their money and made some suggestions for good gift ideas. They were off to make a nice Christmas for this family--even with limited funds.

Em walked in the door last night, excited to show me what they had bought. And as she laid it all on my bed, her eyes dropped as she realized that the money they had spent doesn't go all that far--and they still hadn't gotten the mom anything for Christmas. It's a tough lesson on love, money, holidays, and the season of giving--or not, if you don't have it give.

As we wrapped the presents, we talked a lot about Christmas and being a parent who can't give to her babies. We chatted about the heartbreak of having someone else choose and wrap your child's gifts, about the possibility of no gifts at all, or the pain in having to tell your little ones that Santa may not come to their house this year. It's a brutal awakening when you realize that there are children out there who want and need....legitimately.

We have talked about this before, but I'm not sure it ever got to Em like it did last night. As she wrote Santa's name on the packages, I think she finally saw it--that there are kids out there who have nothing. Sure, we've done the mitten tree at church before, but this is the first time that Em actually held a handwritten note from a mom wanting Christmas for her children. And she also realized how hard it is to make a big Christmas out of very little money.

I think Em has a new respect for Santa.....and parents.

Counting down...

2011-12-19T06:00:00.005-06:00

The weekend project consisted of putting up the real tree. Oh, we've had the fake one up in the front of the house for weeks now, but the real one doesn't go up until the last minute. While I love the smell and all, I get a little anxious to take it down when it starts getting dry. It's not the fire hazard but the thought of all those needles...

Joe was on "light" duty:

I think we got every ornament on the tree this year. It is a beastly tree--huge and fat and full of branches to hang all 2739 ornaments I own. Even the lame ones that the kids made when they were little. Criminy, Emma is so darn proud of those things. Ugh.

And yes, we did tinsel again this year. It's like an old-fashioned Christmas tree. So lovely.

So inviting to the cats....

Well, except for this one--he wasn't really helping much, but you know he's gonna be under that beast before I can crank out the first verse of "O Tannenbaum".

With a bit of snow, some hokey carols, and a bit of arguing (it's not family time until we argue about something)--we got the tree up. We are officially ready for Christmas.

And the village.....

The little people are in the midst of moving in for the holidays. Last I heard, the Pope was on his way....

Let's kick it into gear...

2011-12-17T06:00:00.000-06:00

One of my band pallies mentioned last night that it just doesn't "feel" like Christmas yet. Maybe it's the lack of snow or that we are just putting up the real tree this weekend, but I had to agree with her. So, I'm posting a video I found last year to sort of get us in the mood.

I personally like the star. And Innkeeper #2.

Excuse me while I go put up my tree. And the train. (I know you have all been secretly waiting for the train)

Mercury Glass and Miscellanea

2011-12-16T06:00:00.000-06:00

Gees, I love mercury glass. I can't go near the stuff without touching it, wanting it, sighing deeply and saying "Man, I love mercury glass". I keep telling Em that when I'm dead, she's gonna remember two things about me: 1) I made a mean meatloaf and 2) I loved mercury glass. I envision them standing at my casket saying those two things--is that weird?

Hey, remember all that silly Glee voting we did for our band? Yeah, that was a bust--we didn't get a stinkin' dime. Bummer, eh? The kids are so disappointed. I'm hoping the bands that got the money truly needed it because we are gonna be stuck in the lovely colors of orange and brown uniforms for I-don't-know-how-many-more-years. And let me tell ya, orange and brown is tough to pull off--it's a god-awful combination. But I truly appreciate your help with the voting--we place 20th in the nation, which was great! That alone was a big morale boost for the kids. Thank you for voting for us.

Stupid Glee.

Oh--another update. Remember my post on obituaries and how they should be fun and representative of who we really are in our lives? I'm sure you didn't go back and read all the comments, but the nephew of the lady whose obituary I referred to wrote the most incredible comment to my post. It read:

"Mary Corbett was my aunt and her sister, my mother, somehow stumbled upon this blog post and shared it with me. I think I can speak for the entire family and Mary herself by saying that your post and thoughts would've tickled her immensely. What wasn't said in that too-short obituary is that Mary learned how to play the bagpipes at the unusual age of 48, an age many say is too old to learn such a difficult instrument. Not only did she learn how to play the pipes passionately, she went on to play in the esteemed Shannon Rovers and even founded another Chicago pipes band. My wife and I were very lucky to have Mary play the pipes at our wedding, as she had for many other cousins and relatives.

Thank you for spotting something in the "wee space" of Mary's obituary and interpreting it in a way that is so reflective of the positive, fun and—at times—wacky life that Mary lived. You nailed it"

Isn't that fun? I found it great fun that Mary was a hoot in real life--just like I picked up from her obituary. Some comments just make your day, you know?

My final bit of randomness comes from my cousin Kelly's wedding this summer. After comparing notes at Thanksgiving, we realized that there was a crasher at her wedding. Seriously.

And you won't believe who:

Yep. Weird old guy. Wasn't invited, but showed up anyway. Oh, but he brought a nice gift and was quite the hit on the dance floor. We had a good chuckle over that one. So, can you blame wedding crashing on senility?

Okay, that's it for randomness and my week of recuperation from foot surgery. Of course I didn't do half the things I wanted to, like watch every holiday movie I own, make the miniature cemetery for the train set, or download all my videos to YouTube. Sigh. I need another week off.....

Happy Weekend, pallies!

I Love Hobbes Thursday - Nurse Ratched

2011-12-15T06:00:00.000-06:00

And here is my other nurse--Nurse I-can't-be-bothered-with-moving-over-so-you-can-rest-your-hurty-foot.

While Grace has been at my side and sleeping on my pillow, Nurse Hobbes is about standing at the back door, mewing loudly, demanding to be let outside and back in about a cabillion times a day. Either that or he insists on standing on my chest while I'm trying to sleep off any foot pain I may have. Yeah, he's a real compassionate nurse, I tell ya. Criminy.

I've finally figured out how to dodge 'ol Nurse Ratched--I turn crank up the fireplace and watch him snuggle in his basket. That way he toasts himself into oblivion and leaves me the heck alone. It's the only peace I get.

Where do they get these nurses these days?

We need an intervention...

2011-12-14T06:00:00.001-06:00

Oh, deer!

No, not for me and the pain meds.....

for Joe--he is addicted to.....of all things.......

jasmine rice.

Yeah, I know, it's ugly. It's not easy to talk about either, let me tell you. Try explaining that to your family and friends--it's embarrassing.

It all started with a vegan recipe book. He took to the veggies and the tofu alright, but he was completely smitten with the suggested rice. Raised on white rice, Joe stretched his culinary palate and dabbled in brown rice at one point--but nothing compared to the glory of jasmine rice. Once he tried it, he was hooked.

You gotta see him--all hunched over his plate, humming to himself as he shovels it in. And after dinner is over, he spoons it out of the pot with the wooden spoon, "Survivor" style, and goes on and on about how much he loves the stuff. It's embarrassing and I don't even want Colin to see his dad like this when he comes home from college.

I dunno, it's good and all, but Joe is addicted. Seriously addicted. And being that he does the cooking around here, our meals all suddenly include jasmine rice. Sigh.

The worse part? He starts asking family and friends if they have tried it too--like its normal conversation. It's an obsession of the weird kind. Seriously, Em and I have images of this man hanging outside of grocery stores begging for jasmine rice. It's not a pretty thought.

"Hi, I'm Joe, and I'm addicted to jasmine rice..."

It's just weird.

The Best Things Happen While You're Dancing

2011-12-13T06:00:00.002-06:00

Okay, who watched it?? Who watched "White Christmas" last night???

MEEEEE!!!

And who sang along? C'mon, admit it. I did--I sang along....loudly. And while I couldn't do the dance numbers, I did snap my fingers a bit. Joe was dancing--but it was sorta lame and it made me laugh. I gave him points for trying.

Who picked the best time of year to have to sit on the couch with her feet up??? MEEEEE!

On Duty

2011-12-12T06:00:00.000-06:00

The good news is that I don't have to go in to the office this week. The bad news--I'm stuck in the house for 5 more days with no driving. So, here I sit, working at home, catching up on the blog pallies, and finding all sorts of odd projects to do while sitting with my foot up. It's interesting to say the least, and it's only Monday.

It's funny, but of everyone in the house, Grace is the one who is my best nursemaid. It's like we have this symbiotic relationship--neither of us can do without the other. And while I have shown a lot of patience with her and her bladder issues, she has repaid me tenfold in the past days, hardly leaving my side. She sleeps on my pillow, follows me to the bathroom, and sits on my chest when I shouldn't be getting up. It's like she just knows that I don't feel well.

When I came home from surgery, it was she who met me on the bed and proceeded to sniff the toe and dressing--checking out what was done. Hobbes came up later, but he didn't even notice my foot--it was Grace who took full note of the situation and commenced her nursing duties. I think she knows I'm hurting and she doesn't leave me.

It's a strange relationship we have with animals. While we don't have the same feelings or emotional capabilities, it's amazing how they just sort of know what we need. It isn't the pain pills or lunch that I need at the moment--it's just the company--you know, the little furry friend who sits at my side and waits for a little pat on the head and coos a gentle purr to comfort. She's just there.

I'm feeling well, but I'm not pushing it. Actually, this doesn't hurt much more than the broken foot this summer, but I have to remember there is a pin in that toe and I need to be careful not to bump it. So, I'm gonna do some work, but I'm also going to take a week to breathe and heal.

And hang out with my nurse, Grace.

Santa's Helpers: Hardrock, Coco, Joe, and Tylenol 3

2011-12-10T08:39:00.000-06:00

While I'm all pumped up on pain meds and chillin' on the couch, I thought I'd post another classic from my youth. This is part deux of the here-comes-Christmas cartoons that we waited for each year as kids--Suzy Snowflake was number one. Most people remember Hardrock, Coco, and Joe more than Suzy for some reason.

This one is for you, Paul:

Hey, you know, this having all your Christmas stuff done and laying on the couch stuff isn't too bad. It's actually kinda nice to just relax during a time of year that I'm usually running around like a nut. And the toe.....doesn't hurt all that bad.

Happy Weekend, pallies. May you have a few minutes to just relax and enjoy it a bit.

Toe's Big Day

2011-12-09T07:00:00.000-06:00


Toe in happier days....

By the time you read this, I'm gonna be home laying on the couch recovering from my major toe-straightening operation. Yep, I'm scheduled first-up at the Toe Surgical Center at some ridiculous hour--don't even ask. Ugh.

This whole toe thing is weird and I have found that getting my toe fixed is a huge conversation starter with folks. Not that I go around telling complete strangers about my wonky toe--it's just that it comes up, you know. Like "Hey, whatcha doing Friday? Wanna go shopping?" and I'm like "Nah, I've got to get my toe straightened that day. Sorry." And then it just goes south from there.

What's really weird is when I explain how my toe is all crooked and I need to get it set straight, everyone (without exception) asks if it hurts. Really?! Do people get their toes straightened for vanity reasons? Is there plastic surgeons who do breast implants and toe straightening? I'm never sure how to answer that one--I usually just scrunch up my face and go "Uh....YEAH."

Then there is the "I think I might have a wonky toe too" conversation. And yes, I've had this with more people than I can count. Seems like there are a lot of toe issues out there in the world. But it's kinda nice bonding with people over wonky toes. It's like we are a secret cult or something--The Wonky Toe Club. I wonder if we need a secret handshake or something. Or maybe the surgical shoe on one foot will just be our secret handshake.

So, yeah, today is the day. I've cleaned the house, done the laundry and the ironing, bought and wrapped all of my Christmas presents and done about all I can to prepare for this. Now, I'm gonna camp out on the couch with the kitties and catch up on reading and Christmas DVD's. God help my family on the 3rd run of White Christmas. At least they will be spared my dancing like Vera Ellen this year.

Maybe I can just do the arms....

I Love Hobbes Thursday

2011-12-08T06:00:00.000-06:00

While we don't have snow or extreme cold yet, Hobbes is still venturing outside each day. Okay, so he's a little slow going out in the early hours of the morning, but he is at least going outside in the afternoon. We like to encourage the orange stripey to get a little exercise so his weight doesn't "blossom" during the winter months, so we let him outside to burn some calories.

The other night, Joe went to take the garbage out and of course, Hobbes went with him. And as Hobbes was running around the yard, he spotted Grace sniffing around the garden too. He can't resist chasing her, so off he went, trying a sneak attack on poor old Grace.

Except it wasn't Grace--it was the opossum.

The opossum took off running and Hobbes ran after him--confused on why "Grace" wasn't hissing and spitting at him. The poor cat was completely confused. The opossum---I think he was confused too. And a little freaked out.

Joe spotted the intruder and quickly grabbed Hobbes--while the opossum high-tailed it outta here. Poor thing--didn't even have time to drop a pooper in the yard on the way out.

Grace--she was in the warm house on the couch watching Hobbes make a fool of himself.

Crazy, Shirtless Love

2011-12-07T06:00:00.004-06:00

It's a miracle--Em and I agree on something.

Or should I say "someone".

Girlfriends, I may be really slow on the uptake on this one, but if you haven't seen Ryan Gosling in a movie, you really must. Sigh. I hear he is currently in a movie with George Clooney. Double Sigh. Where do I buy the tickets?

But while Em and I go on and on with how absolutely adorable he is, we tend to disagree on who should get him--you know, just in case he pops over. And then I realize that I am ridiculously too old for him and that I would just be happy to have him date my daughter so I could sneak a peek at that lovely young man. That's kinda sad, isn't it?

And while we were discussing the merits of him without his shirt on, Joe just happened to come in from work and was changing his clothes. He heard our dreamy tones and comments about six-pack abs, so there he stood, with his hands on his waist, puffing out his chest for us--which wasn't even close to Ryan Gosling's.

"How 'bout this?" he says proudly. (He was sucking it in big time.)

"Yeah/no, Dad" Em says, "Yours looks more like a twelve-pack".

Yeah. And that's who I get. Crud.

Killing Two Birds with One Stone

2011-12-06T06:00:00.000-06:00

In preparing for the Toe Straightening, I had to see my doctor to give me clearance for surgery. She seemed a little surprised to see me, I guess I hadn't been there in a few years. I don't like going because the place I go to LOVES tests and they find every doggone reason to run one or another....or a bunch. Depends on how much money they need to make that month I think.

Anywho, she's doing the run-down on my meds and asks about the GERD. Yeah. It's there....still. And yes, I take daily meds for it...still. And she didn't like that. So, (here it comes) she wants to run a test on me and see if we can either a) switch my meds or b) get me off meds. Which sounds like a great idea......AFTER my Toe Straightening. I can only do so much "health" at a time, ya know? But she insists. Yea.

After scheduling the damn test, a week later the GERD flares up.....bad. Like I've got a death grip around my throat-bad. Like I vomit after eating-bad. Like I have to go to back to Ted the Acupuncturist-bad. Ugh.

You remember Ted, right? It was last year, right about this time of year that I went to him and he did not find me funny--at all. And I would lie there with needles coming out of my forehead, feet, arms, and ears, and I would giggle. Ted found that very strange--that I would giggle. Ted was not fun. Not at all. I think he did not get me.

So, I go back to I'm-not-fun-at-all-Ted and he acts like he doesn't remember me. Really??! Like I'm the most fun acupuncture patient EVER and he doesn't remember me?? I think he was lying.

I low-keyed it as he stuck needles in my forehead and ears and such and then he says "Oh yeah! I remember you! You wore nice perfume." Oh, yeah, Ted. That's me. Ol' nice perfume lady. Nice try, buddy. You know, damn well, he thought I was nuts--but I didn't say that because he had a fist full of needles that he intended on sticking in me. I'm thinking it's not good to irk the acupuncturist, so I just said "thank you" and left it at that.

Ted gets to talking about GERD and the "hot spots" and he gets to my toe--you know, the crooked one? And he's all excited, like he found the whole secret of my problem. Seems the second toe is the hot spot for your stomach.

Really???!

Wow. By the shape of that toe, I think everyone should be able to see how bad the tummy is these days. Wouldn't that be ironic if the Toe Straightening fixed the GERD too? I'm keeping my fingers crossed.

And then Ted stuck two pins in either second toe (and lots of other places as well) and left me to ponder in the dark. With relaxing music on. For a long, long time. A long, relaxing time.

I like that Ted--especially if he was right about that toe/stomach thing. Toe Straightening, here I come!

She's baaackkkk.....

2011-12-05T06:00:00.001-06:00

Look who's back...... Suzy Snowflake!

For the new pallies, I post this classic video each December. I grew up on this stuff and it brings back warm memories of me in my pjs eating farina at the kitchen table. Sigh. Seems like yesterday.

Growing up in Chicago, they played this on the morning cartoon show " Ray Rayner" and at the lunch time "Bozo Show". When you saw this as a kid, it was your signal that Santa was on his way. It's no wonder I love this so.

Have you noticed the holiday pace picking up? I have. Stores are crazy crowded, traffic is maddening, and money seems to be flying out the window. People are freaking out about to-do lists and holiday family obligations, and nerves are starting to frazzle....just a wee bit.

Gosh, as much as I love Christmas, I certainly hate what it does to us. But Suzy helps a bit. She reminds me to just enjoy the sparkle of winter and the fun of the season without dreading all the have-tos.

That is, until I have to shovel her "snow white gown" off the driveway to get to work...

Goodbye, Windy

2011-12-03T06:00:00.003-06:00

There is no easy way to tell you this.....

Windy is gone. She disappeared after a freak winter storm hit her home. And now, we are Windy-less.

Waaahhhhhh!

I know, I know. It's sad, but her memory will live forever. And every time we see a plastic bag stuck in a tree, we'll remember our friend, Windy.

Don't know what the heck, I'm talking about? Go over and visit Kathy at The Junk Drawer. She has been writing about a wee plastic bag (Windy) that has been stuck in the tree outside her office for three years (that's 73 in bag years).

Kathy has provided us all chuckles with Windy updates, Windy birthday parties, and Windy photos. She was even famous for a bit, getting air time with her stories of Windy--although some people did not find her humorous. I do and I think those people are just jealous of Windy and are evil haters. Windy was nothing but fun--how can you hate on that? Sheesh.

So, today, in honor of Windy, I dedicate this post at the Duck and Wheel to her memory. May we all remember what she stood for--tenacity in good weather and in bad. Hanging out with the wind in her hair and her face towards the sun. She gave us all something fun to read about for the past few years and for that, we thank her. Good-bye, bag pally....

We love you, Windy.

Somebody needs a hug

2011-12-02T06:00:00.005-06:00

The best part of the holiday season is all those movies--you know, the ones that we see year after year. The ones we know every single scene, word, and song like the back of our hands. Yeah. And I can't wait to see them for the cabillionth time.

And as dumb as the story line may be, "Elf" has got some great scenes that make me laugh....out loud....a LOT. It's been on a LOT lately and I always seem to catch it right about here:

I think Buddy found Happy Raccoon Village!

Thursday Thanks

2011-12-01T06:00:00.000-06:00

I've had a fun couple of weeks getting all sorts of great surprises from the pallies. And while I'm all giddy with excitement when the packages come, I'm not really good at taking photos and sharing with everyone what I received. Today, I'm gonna actually take the time to show you the goods.....and thank everyone properly--just like my mother taught me to.

Grace made a bunch of CD's for her pallies a couple of weeks ago and sent them out as a surprise. It's chock full of fun "Grrrl Power" songs and it's a real toe-tapper when you are stuck in traffic each day. Thanks, Grace! I think of you when I'm singing along and all the cars around me are staring at me like I'm nuts. I thank you for making my commute a little more bearable.

I still can't convince Joe that the title of the CD is really not a typo. Sigh.

Right before I got my CD from Grace, I was the winner of a notecard giveaway over at my pally Sara's blog: Red Pine Mountain. I love Sara and her tales of her wacky birds, dogs, ponies, and Mountain Man adventures. She has fun living with her menagerie like I do with mine--I think we are very similar in that fashion--'cept I'm in the city and she's in the country and can have more animals than me.

Anywho, she introduced me to a lovely artist, Joan Harlowe, who paints some lovely watercolors. The note cards I won were miniature watercolors of hers and they are BEAUTIFUL!! I think I'm going to frame a couple of these to enjoy. You can see Joan's work at Red Horse Studio. Thank you, Sara, for making my eyeballs happy when I see these lovely cards.

My last treasure, is from Susan over at Hot Rocks Glass Jewels. Susan makes some really lovely jewelry and she won me over with this one--I just HAD to have it. My lighting and photo doesn't do it justice--but, oh, what a treat that was to get in the mail! A little "Merry Christmas to ME", I like to call it. It's got a snappy real live key on it, some crystal, some sparkly, and a bit of bling. And it makes me very happy when I wear it.

Thank you, Susan, for putting it aside for me and not selling it to some other chicky at the art show! And thanks for the bonus earrings you snuck in there!! And no, I am NOT sharing either with Em.

Thank you to all the blog pallies who thought of me in the last couple of weeks. Wow--and I wasn't even sick or nuthin'.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

2011-11-30T06:00:00.000-06:00

You know that saying "Give 'em enough rope and they'll hang themselves"? Well, I've got my own spin on it:

"Give 'em a Mojo Monkey and he'll work his

monkey magic on them"

In other words, he's working.

He's subtle. He's cool. He's making folks do stuff they probably would do anyway, but it's more fun to credit the monkey.

Now we just sit back and watch the show.....

And as for the previous owners:

Joe went to the eye doctor to pick up his spiffy new glasses the other day and the first thing they ask him is "How is the monkey? Is he working???!" He says yes and proceeds to fill them in. They laugh an evil laugh and tell him that things have never been better at the office.

Peggy Fleming on Hold

2011-11-29T06:00:00.001-06:00

All that snow-shoe shopping this weekend got me thinking....I'm gonna be missing out on some fun this winter due to my buzzkill toe. While I'll be done with surgery and pins by the time Christmas is over, I'm still gonna be in that silly surgical shoe for a month or two. Bummer.

There goes my ice skating....and my sledding.....and my curling career--if I had one. Dang. Who's idea was this anyway???! Shoot, I forgot how much I love my winter sports.

Sigh. Now I'll just be left dreaming of my better days of Joe and I skating together:

Did you see where he nearly wiped out? Sheesh. I think Joe better practice a bit more while I'm recovering...

I'm not sure why we are greasy pieces of chicken

2011-11-28T06:00:00.001-06:00

Yes, we did.

We wrapped up a week of Colin being home with a family trip to haul his butt back to school. Instead of being sad and missing him and all that motherly stuff, we decided to make it an adventure. So, we left early Sunday morning to make the 3 hour pilgrimage to Springfield--Home of Abe Lincoln.....and Colin.

It's never boring when you are with us, unless Joe is driving and he makes us listen to football on the radio, then we all pretty much grab our blankies and pass the miles snoring. Joe is thrilled to pieces, but the rest of us stuff our headphones in our ears to block out the play-by-plays. It's pretty much hell on earth. But, we tolerate it for Joe--we just make him turn the speakers off in the rest of the car, the only one on is by him. And he is happy. We....are sleeping.

When we finally made it to Springfield, we went out for lunch, took this snappy photo, and then hiked over to Scheels--the biggest sporting goods store EVER. They have a ferris wheel in the center of the place--that is how large it is.

We aren't big sporting folks, but it is interesting to see what is available for every sport imaginable. Honestly, after going there, I'm thinking of purchasing snow shoes--they had lavender ones. I was in love the minute I saw those, but I'm thinking eskimos don't pick out their snow shoes because of the color. And that is why I am not an eskimo. But I would make a damn cute one if I was.

Anywho, we eeked outta Scheels with some purchases (no snow shoes, though--bummer) and headed over to the dorms to drop off Col. I'm always sad when we do that, but I didn't cry--I think that just makes the whole saying "goodbye" stuff worse. And then we headed for home---3 more hours of scenic Illinois ahead of us. Yea.

After 3 earlier hours of Joe's driving, I took the helm for the ride home. And as I gunned it down the on-ramp, I directed Joe to find the Christmas tunes on the radio. I figure if we are gonna be stuck in the car for 3 hours, it is gonna be fun, dammit. And fun it was--well, I think so anyway.

Nothing like belting out lame-o Christmas tunes for 3 non-stop hours. Well, unless you count when we stopped for the potty break. But then it continued--through road construction, holiday traffic and a 5-mile stop-and-go traffic jam. Em and I sang songs we knew and the ones we didn't--Joe did not. He sat there just enjoying the madness and trash-talking all the really bad Christmas songs like "Dominic the Donkey" and "The Red Shoes".

And before we knew it, we were home. The end.

You know, it really was buckets of fun.

Thanksmas

2011-11-27T06:00:00.000-06:00

I've just spent the last 2 days decorating our house for Christmas---waaayyyy too early. Color me cranky.

I'm not one of those people who love to decorate their house for Christmas. And I'm definitely not one of those people who routinely put up their tree and decorations on Thanksgiving weekend. It's all a little too obnoxious for me and I don't like looking at this stuff for a month.

This year, I got everything up, sans the live tree (which goes up about a week or two before Christmas), because of my upcoming toe surgery. I'm trying to get as much done as I can so that I can recover without stressing out about the holidays. I want to lie on the couch and not feel guilty. Is that possible during the holiday madness? I guess I will find out.

So, we've got the lights up outside (NOT turned on, thank you), small tree in the living room up and ready for the cats to take the ornaments down, silver and gold crap and snowman tchotckes in every nook and cranny. It's red plaid ribbons and angels smiling from bathroom shelves and from high above the TV. The kids are excited, the cats are having a field day, and I've got a freaking tree in my bedroom. I love my small house except for when you have to make room for all of this crap.

It's gonna be a long month dusting Santas and reindeer. Well, except for that week off in the middle when I can lie on the couch and use the pin in my toe as an excuse.

And no, the train is NOT up yet. Are you kidding? The live tree would be kindling by the time December 24th rolls around. The village? Stomped on by Hobbeszilla. No way....I can only take so much crabby.

The Downside of Twinkie Casserole

2011-11-25T10:34:00.000-06:00

...is when it is gone. Or you are polite and you leave the rest of it for your host to enjoy the next day--which is what I did. Bummer. But not for them...

I trust you all had a nice Thanksgiving. We did. Of course, I am a tad pooped and a wee bit disappointed I didn't place in the $100,000 Pyramid competition, but my partner was a little fuzzy from Vicadin for her hurty knee. Or not--I don't think she took any at that point. Ah, heck, it's our excuse and we're using it. Either way, we sorta sucked at the Pyramid this year. Bummer. Cousin Kelly and her husband, Ivan, killed it--or she was gonna kill him if they didn't win. Lucky for him--they did and he had a place to sleep last night.

Speaking of Ivan's--remember how we have two Ivan's in our family and I thought that odd? Yeah, well add another one--Em is dating an Ivan. Really??! THREE Ivan's in one family--is that weird or is it me? I can see "Bill" or "Mike" or "Steve", but Ivan??? And we are not Russian. Go figure.

So, after a few rounds of the Pyramid, we moved on to "Scene It - 80's edition", which was fun, except at that point Cousin Heather really did take her Vicadin and insisted on singing every single song mentioned in the game--which was a lot. And it wasn't pretty. Oh, she knew all the songs and the words--but the tune....well, it was sorta Vicadinish, if you know what I mean.

Either way--it was hilarious. And it was even more hilarious because she wouldn't answer the questions for her team, she would just sing the songs--which infuriated her team captain, Cousin Kelly. (note: it was only funny because she wasn't on my team at that point, because I would not think it funny either)

I often say that Joe has a "beige" family and I have a "colorful" one--I think you know why. We are loud. We are witty. We are funny. And we are competitive. Everyone is fair game--one misstep and you pay for it for the rest of the night. But in a loving kinda way.

So, I'm moving slowly today, coming down from all that food, competition, and fun. The worst part is that I don't have any leftover Twinkie Casserole to help me recover.

Happy Turkey Day!

2011-11-24T06:00:00.000-06:00

Happy Thanksgiving, pallies.

I'm thankful for the wacky world of blogging, Twinkie Casserole,

cousins who drop the "f-bomb" at Thanksgiving, $100,000 Pyramid, Mojo Monkeys,

the sheer ability to laugh at most things, and YOU,

the pallies who join me in the fun.

I've got you cornered........

2011-11-23T06:00:00.004-06:00

I live next door to THE dumbest dogs ever. And I'm not even exaggerating.

For years, we've had to endure Yip Yap the Non-Stop Barking Dog. He has been barking at us non-stop for, oh, I'd say every bit of 10 years. Yip Yap is so stupid, he doesn't recognize us as his neighbors. I've talked nice to him (her?), given him treats, scolded him, and blasted him with a super-soaker when all else failed. Nothing stops that insipid animal from his barking. And yeah, I know it's the owners who suck, but I still hate that animal. It's his yapper I hear incessantly.

Pictured here is Yugi, Yip Yap's companion. While Yugi rarely barks, he runs back and forth along the fence feeding Yip Yap's barking frenzy. Even when Yip Yap grows tired, Yugi's excitement keeps the barking momentum going and so it continues. Yugi's a nice little dog, but if you go to pet him over the fence, he bites you. Yeah, he's sort of an idiot too.

The very night I was posting my Positive Polly Post (you know, the one about how we are supposed to maintain our sense of humor during the holidays), I heard a huge racket outside. Yip Yap AND Yugi were barking up a storm. But it didn't sound right, so I sent Em over to the window to find out why. I was hoping they weren't going after the opossum or the skunks.

"Yeah, it's them barking," Em says, "but you aren't gonna believe this" she adds.

I go over to the big window where Em and Grace are on the couch looking out the window...

And there he is--Yugi in our yard, standing with his paws up against our house, peering into our window and barking at US in OUR house. Yip Yap was barking from behind the fence--at his house.

Unbelievable.

Yugi, the dumbest dog EVER runs away to our yard to bark at us...........INSIDE OUR HOUSE??!

Really?

We just stood there and laughed. Grace, well, she was a tad freaked out, but I think she thought he was an idiot too. Joe? Well, he swears he smelled skunk--which would be the biggest get even for these two idiot dogs and their owners. I giggle at the thought of that.

I'm still wondering if that fool dog ever found his way home---next door.

I'm smiling now, but give me a few weeks....

2011-11-22T06:00:00.001-06:00

Well, I guess it is official....the holiday season is upon us. Come Thursday, there is no turning back--it's madness at the mall. It's crazy people driving....well,....crazy. It's stress and forced fun. It's empty pocketbooks and overstimulated kids. It's having to do too many things in too short a time span.

And it's not going away for well over a month. Sigh.

So, while you are freaking out trying to get this and that done, I want you remember to have fun during it all. Before you strangle your mother-in-law, I want you to take a moment and find something good in the day. Just when you are gonna snap at that dame cutting in line in front of you--I want you to embrace your inner Mojo Monkey, give her the stink eye, and then find something funny in the situation. We have to remember to laugh.

I emailed two blog pallies yesterday, both of which were fried--and it isn't even Thanksgiving yet. Laugh, I said to both of them--we gotta laugh......or we are gonna cry. And I meant it. Each of us has our own troubles these days, but a little giggle in the day goes a long way, ya know? I actually woke myself up the other night--from laughing. That's a good thing--I wish I did that more often.

So, let us all remember how insane this holiday stuff is and how the expectations of some mass media holiday induced frenzy can get the best of us. I'm gonna try hard to breathe deep, grant a little forgiveness on those I want to murder, and to remember to laugh.

And I'm gonna start on Thursday with our annual $100,000 Pyramid competition at my aunt's house. Oh, it's tough. It's competitive. It's not really for $100,000--but you'd swear it was for the behavior of the adults playing. But more than anything....we laugh. And laugh hard.

I wish the same for you this holiday season, pallies.

It's always drama 'round here....

2011-11-21T06:00:00.000-06:00

I have the most dramatic cat ever. Really. Here is Hobbes throwing a fit:

And while you think to yourself "Gees, that is not so bad, he's kinda cute" notice how his tail clues you in to how mad he is. That is a "mad" tail for those who don't have a kitty.

Typically we don't talk to him while he's laying there kicking the door, but Em and I were egging him on for the camera. And what he lacks in volume, he makes up for it in dramatics. He's like a two-year old, I swear.

Nobody knows the trouble I seen........

2011-11-19T09:16:00.000-06:00

I'm not a big TV watcher anyway, but daytime TV sees even less of me. Did you know there are still soaps on? I didn't. Who's watching this stuff anyway? And why?

I got a wee taste of daytime TV when I popped in for a pedicure the other day. Not typically home during the week, I stopped in to this jenky nail shop near my house after running an errand and plopped myself down near a couple of gals. And while you are there getting your feet scrubbed with sea salt, there isn't much to do but watch the crap they've got on that big giant TV screen blaring in the corner. Well.....and commiserate with the gals next to ya.

So, there we sat, stuck watching this show called "Nate". I have no idea who "Nate" is, but the black gal next to me said he was one of Oprah's gang. Oh.

I'm gonna start this by stating the already known--I am not an Oprah fan. I don't watch her, never did, and I have no clue who her gang of thieves are. The only thing I got from this guy is that he is an interior decorator--I think. Either way, he rode his "fame" from Oprah and transferred it into a daytime TV show. Lucky him. I still have no idea who he is.

Yesterday's show featured this woman who was in near tears because she came to Nate to help her brother and his new wife. You see, (she's very emotional) they just got married and returned home from a fabulous honeymoon. (add sniffs) And as they moved into their brand new giant home, they decided they wanted to host their very first Thanksgiving for the entire family. BUT.....(here's the very emotional plea to Nate) they have no dining room furniture. (and this woman is shaking from emotion. Seriously.)

Gasp.

Seriously. This is this woman's heartfelt plea?? That these two very well-to-do people have no dining room furniture?? And she was making a plea to this Nate guy??? On national TV??

Wow.

So, the gal on the left of me says "Hell, we just sit on folding chairs and eat at card tables. Who the hell cares about furniture when you've got food to eat?". And me and the other gal nod our heads in agreement.

And we stare in disbelief as Nate unveils an exact replica of this couple's huge dining room in his studio, fully decorated, while the three idiots (the goofy sister, the newly married brother and his sobbing new bride) stand there crying and hugging--over furniture. Nice furniture. Furniture that would probably take us 25 years of marriage, 3 kids done with college, and years of saving to afford.

"I don't even have a dining room." I say.

"No kidding. Maybe we can nominate you to get a dining room on Nate's show." laughs Gal #1. And we all snicker at the absurdity of this show. I mean, there are people out there who are lucky to have food on Thanksgiving, and here are these fools crying over fancy furniture. Criminy.

I love Girlfriend #2's response as we sat there discussing how disgusting this display was....

"And it's some ugly-ass furniture too..."

Yeah, it's ugly alright. On lots of levels.

Wanna touch my monkey?

2011-11-18T06:00:00.001-06:00

Most people get eyeglasses when they go to the eye doctor. Me--I get a monkey. That pretty much wraps up my life, doesn't it?

Joe went to the eye doctor the other day and asked me to pop in when it came time to pick out new frames. Being that a) I love our eye doctor (he is hilarious), b) I don't trust Joe to pick out his frames alone (the man owned saddle shoes when I met him--'nuff said) and c) it is literally right around the corner from our house, I went over to chime in on the frame selection. Funny how nobody there thought this was odd that a man has to have his wife over to help him pick out his frames--apparently this must happen a lot.

Anywho, while we were sitting there making fun of all the silly frames Joe was trying on, we got to chatting about our jobs and all the wacky stuff that goes on. After unloading about a few idiots I work with and the ridiculous stuff they do to avoid work, I learned that non-workers at work is apparently a very common thing--they were telling me horror stories of their new hires of the last year as well. Wow--who knew turnover was so high at the eye doctor's office?

And as we were laughing over work stories, I commented on the wee monkey that was laying on the top of their computer screen. "Oh, him?" she said, "We hate that monkey!" She went on to explain that ever since they got that silly monkey, nothing but bad things had been happening to the girl who brought him in--kinda like the Hawaiian idol that the Brady Bunch found on their vacation.

They listed car accidents, 3 employees quitting, computers breaking, forgetting car payments, and I don't remember what else--but they were convinced that this one-inch monkey was to blame. They said he had "bad mojo" or something. I didn't think he looked all that evil--but who knows what bad mojo looks like anyway.

And that's when they decided that I needed that monkey. They untaped his monkey belleh from the computer screen and handed him to me to pass on all that bad monkey mojo to the people I work with. They had enough of his evil grin and they offered his monkey self to me--to which I willingly grabbed him.

"Aha!", I'm thinking, this is the best evil plan EVER. I'm gonna tape his butt on the back of any offending party's computer to pass some bad work mojo on them. And they'll never see it coming.

And so, I left the eye doctor's office with one Mojo Monkey and an evil plan to hatch havoc on unsuspecting idiot co-workers. Hey, we got new eyeglasses AND a Mojo Monkey! Who else can say that from a routine eye examine?

Maybe I shouldn't think so early in the morning

2011-11-17T06:00:00.003-06:00

I was driving to work yesterday morning when I noticed some stickers on the back window on the car in front of me. And my wee brain got to workin' just a little early.

Do you know those stickers that people stick on their mini-vans and SUV's that represent their family? There is a dad, a mom, a couple of kids and sometimes a dog or a cat? You know those stickers, right? (If you don't, just nod your head and go along with me, okay?) For some reason, some people like to tell the whole world how many people are in there family--I am not one of them.

Anywho--so the lady in front of me has no people stickers, but she has 4 cat stickers....all in a row. So, I'm giggling, thinking that I've got me a crazy cat lady driving in front of me. I thought that was funny for some reason. Crazy Cat Lady driving to work....to go earn some money for crazy cat food or crazy cat toys. Hee. Hee.

But then, I go around her (because she was a pokey crazy cat lady) and I notice that the whole front end of her car was all smooshed.

And then it really got me thinking. What if she wasn't a crazy cat lady at all and she was just like one of those fighter airplanes from the war--you know, with the airplanes painted on the side representing all the planes they shot down. Maybe those kitties on the back were.....

Hmmmm......maybe she was a crazy cat KILLER lady???! EEEK!

I think of weird stuff on my way to work.

Can we all not be ridiculous here?

2011-11-16T06:00:00.000-06:00

Chuck was writing about how his cat, Midnight, drinks from the faucet at his house. Sure, there is something refreshing about that fresh-from-the-tap H2O, but isn't it a pain to have to get up, turn the water on, wait for his Royal Highness to finish slurping and then have to shut off the water again? I think so. But we all do it anyway. It's crazy how we cater to these guys.

And while you think I'm all judgmental about that--I'm not. I spent years telling the cat that I wished she had thumbs to turn the water off herself. We even got to the point of turning the light on in the bathroom--not for her to see, but for us to remember to turn the darn water off! I'm just grateful that she hasn't taken up using the toilet instead of the litter box--imagine my water bill.

So, while normal cats drink from fancy fountain water dishes (yep, we have one) and from the tap, my two knuckleheads love the tubs of water from the pond plants. It's ridiculous. Apparently they are connoisseurs of drinking water, as they will only drink out of these tubs the entire winter--until the plants go back out into the pond for the summer.

If you are wondering what these tubs are--they are temporary housing for the few plants that we have submerged in the pond all summer. They are good for fighting algae and aeration of the pond--plus the frogs love to sit in those pots. But they have to come in the house for the winter, so in some pots they go--along with gallons of water to keep them alive.

So, the cats drink and drink all that yummy plant water and Poor Joe has to keep refilling the darn tubs each day. It's just silly. Why they can't just drink out of a bowl or out of the toilet like dogs do....my goofs insist this plant water is delicious.

And the pond plants are just the appetizer---Christmas tree water is right around the corner.

Oh--pop on over to wish our pally Marilynne good luck and a Get Well Soon--she is having a pacemaker implanted today. I told her that it's gonna be like a built-in metronome for all that square dancing that she does.

And the answer to Find the Kitty:

Find the Kitty, Found the Frog, Lose the Heron

2011-11-15T06:00:00.000-06:00

So, if you think finding the frog was tough yesterday, try to find the kitty in the photo below. And yes, you will have to enlarge it. Good luck--it's a tough one. And don't blame me for this one--I got it in an email from my friend Jan. She embarrassed her cat by admitting she couldn't find it.

I think you have to really think like a kitty to find him. Joe said "he's on the road" and Em and I just yelled at him. If he was on the road, he'd be smooshed. Sheesh. That Joe--he doesn't even try half the time.

And here is yesterday's solution for Veronica Lee. She couldn't find the frog, so I think she's in BIG trouble on the cat one.

There he is!!

Oh, and one thing I am NOT having a hard time seeing lately is the giant pterodactyl who insists on visiting my pond....STILL. Ugh. I hate that guy. I walked out yesterday morning to find that beastly 6 foot wingspan flapping on the neighbor's fence--dang near took it down.

Tell me this thing doesn't look like a pterodactyl

Poor Hobbes was outside for his morning yard fix and nearly wet his orange stripey pants at the sight of that big guy. His tail pouffed up like a raccoon and he ran for the kitty door. Heck, even I was scared to see that thing.

I wonder if there is a Happy Heron Village nearby?

You Can't See Me

2011-11-14T06:00:00.000-06:00

.....the frog is thinking. But, yes, yes I can see you, silly frog. Can you spot him?

The frogs aren't the lovely iridescent green of summer right now--they turn sorta black when the days shorten and the air turns cool. They look almost like miniature alligators with just their eyes and noses breaking the surface of the water. And every now and then, if the sun is warm, they'll come out and sit on the rocks--but those days are fading fast.

It's almost hibernation time and I've got 4 frogs going into winter. Let's hope there are 4 come spring. Winter is harsh and I hold my breath that they all make it.

Leafy Quandry

2011-11-12T11:49:00.001-06:00

What is it about leaves that when they decide to fall, they a) do it all at once it seems and b) they all have to congregate in my yard?

I don't have trees on the Back Forty (feet), so why do I have piles and piles of them on my lawn this morning? And it isn't like there are a few clumps--nope, we've got piles. Like I-have-to-go-out-and-rake sorta piles. And it would take me all day and lots of garbage bags. Ugh.

And why is it the dude who never cuts his lawn or fertilizes AND owns these damn leaves doesn't have one stinking leaf on his property? What gives?

The bigger question? Would it be rude for me to rake his leaves and return them to his lawn?

Today's word: murmuration

2011-11-11T06:00:00.000-06:00

After sorting, counting and distributing over 1000 frozen coffecakes and cookie dough yesterday, my brain and body is fried. I have nothing left to offer but this cool video. Thanks to our pally, Rebbeca, who posted it on Facebook and her blog yesterday.

Gosh, I love that. This good green earth is amazing, isn't it?

I love Hobbes Thursday - Cliff Diving Duck and Wheel Style

2011-11-10T06:00:00.002-06:00

Well, it's sorta like cliff diving, 'cept the waterfall isn't all that high......and he never jumps. But he'll sit there like he's going to.

As sad as I am about shutting off the water for the winter, Hobbes thinks it's the greatest thing since fish-flavored cat treats. Apparently there are some benefits to winter.

Wordless Wednesday: Simply Grace

2011-11-09T06:00:00.000-06:00

As much as you hear the stories of Hobbes, it is Grace whom I love most dearly. It's hard to watch her grow old and I see her body start to fail her ever so slowly.

After another accident the other day, we chatted a bit about "peeing appropriately" and then I bent down, gave her a kiss on the top of her head and whispered in her ear my promise of continued understanding and forgiveness.

Love does that, you know?

Prescribing Real Life

2011-11-08T06:00:00.003-06:00

Okay, so they find that goofy doctor guilty of giving Michael Jackson a lethal dose of some drug to make him sleep--does anyone else find that strange? The needing drugs to sleep part--not the goofy doctor. There are lots of goofy doctors out there who will do anything for money, but I'm not going all Andy Rooney on that topic. Nope, instead, I've got to wonder how you can't fall asleep and you've got staff to see to it that you do. That's just weird.

I've got this theory that these wacky stars don't need rehab or community service time, they just need a dose of real life to get their crap together. And if Ol' Mikey can't fall asleep at night, then he's living the wrong kinda life. If Michael Jackson wasn't dead, I'd be saying this to him: "Pack up your stuff, Mike, you're coming to stay at the Duck and Wheel house to get yourself a dose of real life. There ain't no insomnia here."

Here are some real life solutions to insomnia--Duck and Wheel style:

Get in the car, we are going for a road trip through boring 'ol central Illinois. After about an hour and a half of Joe flipping channels on the radio as we drive through the flattest dang land you ever did see, those Jackson eyelids will be heavy. I guarantee it. I'm a goner after about 45 minutes.
Chores. We got a LOT of those around here. And if sweeping out the garage, cleaning the attic, scooping out kitty litter boxes, cleaning bathrooms, and doing about 4000 loads of laundry don't exhaust you, I can find a cabillion other things that need to be done around here. Go ahead, tell me you're "bored". Dare me.
Be forced to listen to Emma's recap of her day at school--including every ridiculous girl-drama story she encountered in her day. This tests the most resilient eyelids.
Hang with the kitties. Masters of all things relaxy and sleepy--a half hour on the couch with either of these two will make you want to join the club. Naps are contagious when you own a cat.
Discuss sports with Joe. This makes my head want to explode, but Joe can go on and on about college football, golf scores, his old baseball days, or what somebody said about something about sports. Blah, blah, blah, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. See? It works.
Pay the bills. Nothing makes you want to escape it all with a nap more than balancing (or not) the checkbook and paying the bills at my house. After an hour of checking off those debit card receipts, you'll somehow find yourself yawning and thinking of your pillow.
Go for a swim with the Seniors. All that dodging of the weird ones makes you pooped, let me tell you.
Watch golf on TV with Joe. All that whispering and lack of action and I can't keep my eyes open.
Family photos. Oh, can you imagine me dragging out all those photo albums? And I would tell Mike every story with every photo. And if that didn't put him over the edge, we have videos. Loads and loads of videos--including old dance recital tapes. Kill me now.
Go lay in the mulch on a warm sunny day. Hobbes swears by it--he can't stay awake.

See? Just reading that list makes you drowsy, doesn't it?

Poor 'ol Michael Jackson. See what he was missing in his life? All that money, fame, staff, people who he paid to see that he had this or that. The one thing he needed, he didn't have--reality. Life is boring for us non-celebs and we sleep good.

It's a shame I didn't get to him sooner. I think he'd fit right in Weirdville.

If obituaries were fun

2011-11-07T06:00:00.002-06:00

I love obituaries.

Well, I don't really love them per se--I just love finding cool stuff in there when I'm perusing all the dead folk's names. There is just something important about listing in that wee space something about you that makes you stand out from the crowd. I mean, we all go to work, have accomplishments, and have brothers and sisters and other endless relatives to list--but I think you have to list the quirky stuff that makes you YOU. Does that make sense?

Take my new hero, Mary Bonfield Corbett--

She sounds like a nice enough lady, one that was accomplished and successful in her job. It is the second part of that sentence that wins me: She "became a passionate bagpiper". I love that. Who the heck can say that about their life? Not many, that's for sure. And it's so off -the-wall, it made me smile. And crack up. Damn! I want to learn the bagpipes so someone can say that about ME! It's just so hilarious.

And it made me turn to Joe and Em and make them promise that when they go to write my obituary, they will put something cool in there. I want them to write something that makes all those wacky obituary-reading folks out there stop and laugh. And make them wonder about ME and what kinda nut I was. I think that is how you should go out--all fun-like and not all sad and crying and stuff.

Those darn obituaries are a buggar--you only have so much space in which your loved ones get to write about who you were and what you did with the short time that you were on this good green earth. Why waste it on the boring? I say, let's put in the wacky stuff like "she could pinch with her toes" or "he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket". Those are the things we remember about our loved ones anyway, right? Well, I certainly hope so because that is what makes me ME and not some other boring corpse.

Mary Bonfield Corbett not only rocked the bagpipes, but she rocked the obituaries as well.

Opossum thanks

2011-11-05T10:04:00.000-05:00

You know winter is coming when there is a heavy frost.....on the opossum poop.

Apparently our yard is a big hang-out for the opossum crowd--if the sheer amount of opossum poop is any indication. They have the worst pooping etiquette as I find their droppings everywhere--on the mulch, in the middle of the yard, by the bird feeder, and on top of perennials that have been cut back for winter. It's like our yard is their personal toilet.

It's sad when you have to go out and pick up poop before you mow the lawn--and we don't even own a dog. It's all the opossum poop--we're loaded in that stuff.

Now, don't get me wrong, I like the opossum. They don't cause any harm and they merely pop in for a little snack under the bird feeder, a sip of cool water from the pond, and.....well.....a little stop at the......uh......."opossum" room. It's kinda like the ladies room, except it's for opossum only. And its a big room--pretty much our entire yard. Sheesh.

That's the thanks I get for freeing all the opossum that got in the raccoon traps last year. Sigh.

Friday's Bright Side

2011-11-04T09:08:00.000-05:00

Every Friday, on my way home from work, I listen to a feature on the local talk radio station called "The Bright Side". This is when they have listeners call in and tell us a good thing that happened during the week. And as sappy as it sounds, it's kinda nice and it always cracks me up.......or at least makes me smile.

So, I'm gonna try a Bright Side feature here this week--leave me your Bright Side in the comments today.

It doesn't have to be huge like "I won the Powerball" or "I'm leaving for an exotic vacation today", it can just be simple like "My cold finally went away" or "The sun finally came out". C'mon, there is always some good in the week--even in the lousiest of weeks.

And what better music to accompany the post:

Here, I will start you off:

* After a long summer of taking on extra responsibilities for a co-worker on maternity leave, I was acknowledged with a promotion and a raise.

See? It's all good.

What do YOU have?

I love Hobbes Thursday

2011-11-03T06:00:00.001-05:00

Poor Hobbes--left with no patio furniture to lounge on, he's forced to sit on the grill when he goes out in the yard. So, there he sits, basking in the sunshine.....on the uncomfortable barbecue grill. His life is awful, just awful. Poor kitty.

And to add insult to injury, he was terrified by a banana on Halloween. Yep, a banana. While he can barely handle cowboys, fairy princesses, ninjas, and Scooby Doos, it was a banana that sent him scrambling to the safety of the house. Scary things, those bananas.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday - 1 1/2 minutes of pond

2011-11-02T06:00:00.014-05:00

Pull up a chair, grab a cup of coffee and enjoy a whole minute and a half of pond bliss:

The pond is right out my back door and I spend a lot of time out there in the summer. It's shut down now, for the winter, and it makes me sad. The frogs are still popping up, but they will quickly settle in for their winter snooze. And then I spend the entire winter worrying about them.

I used to bring them in--we had frog tanks everywhere in this house. It was a lot of work cleaning them and feeding them all winter, and they were never happy--I swear they were frowning at me. I did some research and found that they need to hibernate to live a longer, healthier life, so out they went. Now, I just let them be--no names, no store-bought crickets, no "Good morning, frogs!", no knowing they are safe under my care.

It's a hard thing letting Mother Nature do her thing.

The Lucille Jordan Award 1964

2011-11-01T06:00:00.000-05:00

I have absolutely no idea who Lucille Jordan is or was, but girlfriend has a trophy AND a scholarship named after her. And the only reason I know that is because it was hand-written on the bottom of the band trophy we found at Goodwill last week.

Isn't it lovely? Who would ever think they would find such loveliness at the Goodwill?? Me, apparently, as that's where we headed when we found out we needed a "white elephant" for the end-o-the-year band parent party. We found it waaaaay up at the top of the shelves where we were digging around for an hour or so--I swear Lucille heard our prayers to find something good.

So, off it went and was delivered to a well deserving, unsuspecting Sue, who had a death grip on that bad-boy all night. And when another parent tried to snag it, he got the evil death stare--and needless to say he went for the lame-o box of perfume instead. Yeah, the trophy is that good.

We honored Lucille Jordan by declaring it the new MVP Band Parent Traveling Trophy. Each year, it must be passed down to the outstanding band parent of the marching season. Tough to win? Certainly.

But even tougher to pry out of Sue's grip.

EEK!

2011-10-31T06:00:00.001-05:00

Maybe it's all this talk of goblins and spirits, but lots of odd things have been floating by me lately. I'm hoping those smiley pumpkin faces chase all the weirdness away so I can continue on with my dull and boring life.

Weird things of the past week include:

Two grown women in the middle of traffic in a full-blown fist fight on my way home from work. And I don't think they were drunk as it was 2:00 in the afternoon. Well, maybe it was not-so-happy hour that got to them.

Mayhem at work. Lots of goblins at play there these days. Can't go into them here for obvious reasons. Just color it weird....and not so fun.

Em and I were in the car at a stoplight when there was a knock on the passenger side window. Em screamed and found some haggard old woman wanting her to roll down her window. She was lost and confused. I went to help her and then I saw that she was behaving erratically and approaching other cars, so we sped away. We live in Chicago--you get the heck outta there in those situations.

After searching the entire Goodwill store for a music-themed white elephant gift (for a band party we were going to) for an hour, Joe just "happened" to look on the top of the shelves and found a 47 year old band trophy. (Insert creepy music) I'm not kidding--we had been down that aisle 18 times and never saw the darn thing--it seemed to just "appear". And oh, by the way, it was the rockinest white elephant EVER.

Boo, you crazy evil spirits. Be gone with you!

I'm gonna be hunkering down with my bowl of Halloween candy until all this weirdness goes away. Or until the bowl goes empty.

Does your face hurt? It's killing me

2011-10-29T06:00:00.010-05:00

Day 7 and I can finally move my face. Seriously--I could not move my face without being in excruciating pain for days. Imagine trying to go to work like that.

Now imagine me going to work and having the support (or lack of) from my co-workers. Yeah/no. Nothing like those after-chemical peel words of encouragement:

"Are you sick or something? You don't look so good." Yeah, thanks Janitor guy.
"How much did you spend on that?"
"Does it hurt as bad as it looks?" Yes. Yes, it does.
"What happened to your face?! I didn't want to say anything on Monday." Jackass.
"Oooh. Are you gonna sue them?" My personal favorite.

Yes, it hurt. Yes, this is normal--although nobody will tell you that. And yes, my skin looks better. Although I'm hoping for even better results when I'm done peeling and healing. When that will come--who knows. It's been an entire week and I'm just happy to move my face. Aim high, I say. Ugh.

At least I kept my sense of humor through it all--even if it hurt to smile.

What Talent that Wee Toe Has!

2011-10-28T06:00:00.003-05:00

Well, I went to the foot doctor for my surgical consult yesterday and it was very informative. It's sort of creepy what they have to do to straighten your toe, but nobody makes a big deal out of it--kind of reminds me of that darn chemical peel I just had done. (Warning, Will Robinson)

So, my doctor shows me on a boney foot skeleton what they are gonna do and he draws on paper to make it feel like a football play.

"Okay, we are gonna make an incision on the top of the toe--here." He is explaining. "Then we cut the bone off here and put a pin in there--here and here." And he draws a dark spot where my bone is no longer gonna be.

"Then we keep that pin sticking out of your foot for 2 weeks and you have to wear a surgical shoe..." Yeah...I've got one of those already. Good thing I saved mine, eh?

Then he drops the bomb on me, all nonchalantly. And as he did, I died a little death. And the world got a little less bright. My heart sunk and I wasn't so excited about my straight toe anymore.

You see, I am going to lose the middle bend of my toe during this process. Oh, I will be able to bend my toe at the bottom and very top joints, but that middle one will be straight forever. And while I will be able to point my toes for my ballerina career, I will be forced to accept the most terrible thing ever......

I will never be able to pinch anyone with my toes again.

There. I said it. This is the first step of acceptance they say.

While this may seem trivial to some, this is a big deal to me for this is my one and only talent. Like if I was ever in the Mrs. America Pageant, this would guarantee me a win for the talent portion. But after toe surgery, I will be forced to skip the talent portion and rely solely on my platform--which is bringing back cocktail hour--but that is a whole other story. I'm really bummin' about not being able to pinch with my toes--it's just so darn cool.

So, you are probably thinking "who the heck cares about that?", but think of Julie Andrews who had throat surgery and can no longer sing. What if Michelangelo had hand surgery and could no longer paint? Baryshnikov not dancing? See--it's awful when you think of it. An art form lost......forever.

And when I broke the news to my friend, Wendy, she just asked if I can't just do it with my other foot. Sheesh. NO. I am right-footed and that is the only foot I can do it with! This isn't easy, people. That is why it is a talent.

Emma and Joe were just about as thoughtful about my trauma--Em sang "Ding Dong the Pinch is Gone", which I did NOT find humorous. Joe just asked what was for supper. Sigh.

My talent will forever disappear in the near future and nobody cares. And when I'm dead, I can hear my family....

"Lin was great--to think she could pinch people with her toes........" It ranks right up there with "She could make a mean meatloaf". Sigh.

Even the doctor wasn't sympathetic. When I told him why I was horrified, he just looked at me with big eyes like I was nuts. He doesn't get it either. Sheesh.

I'm gonna get in all the toe-pinching I can before my surgery. I mean, it's my last chance, right? And I think my family should have to tolerate it because after a certain date, it's over. For good. Forever. And ever.

I love Hobbes Thursday

2011-10-27T06:00:00.000-05:00

...and then, Goldilocks said "This sink is toooo small".

Is this not ridiculous that my cat thinks he fits in this sink and that nobody can see him? Sigh.

Halloween at my house this year

2011-10-26T06:00:00.001-05:00

I am soooo gonna do this to my house just to annoy the neighbors:

But why do I think this would be just as annoying INSIDE as it is from the outside?

It was a fine idea at the time.......

2011-10-25T06:00:00.004-05:00

I'm an idiot.

Seriously. Where I get my ideas, I'll never know. I talk myself into the most ridiculous situations and then, well, I blog about them.

Last Friday, as a treat, I decided to drop $240.00 on a chemical peel for my face. (Commence chuckling)

Yeah, I know, ridiculous. But I did and that is what I wanted to do for years. Seriously--years.

I'm not sure when, but over time, the sun damage caused by the lack of sunscreen when we were young (NOBODY used sunscreen back then, people.) left me with uneven skin tone and brown spots on my face. They got so bad that I wore a lot of make-up on most days. Well, every day actually. And while all those smarty pants dames would make comments about my make-up at the pool and at little league games, they had no idea how self-conscious I was about those brown spots. I felt like a rotten apple.

So, make-up I wore--everywhere. The pool, horseback riding, to the gym, in the backyard, etc. I didn't like it either--it was expensive and time-consuming. Believe me, I missed those teen years of being naked on the face.

Well, here I am, 30 years later and I'm blastin' my face with god-knows-what and it's hurting. It's hurting damn bad. I look like an idiot with a 4 + days of faux sunburned glory and peely skin to beat the band. I'm freaking miserable. Like $240 worth of miserable.

Okay, so all the brochures tell me that I'm never going to have to wear make-up again. Really? Damn, I hope so because, today, I'm just lookin' like a raisin. A bright pink raisin. A raisin who's skin is all peely and is all crabulated because her face hurts so stinkin' bad.

But a raisin with no make-up on.

A good end to the season

2011-10-24T06:00:00.000-05:00

The last contest of the season is typically at the University of Illinois and this year was no exception. It is a very long day, but a fun one. We tailgate with the kids and enjoy the company of the other band parents and alumni, but the past couple of years have also included meet-ups with the pallies--last year being A.Marie and this year, Diana of Diana Rambles.

Diana is not only a great blog pally, but she is also the designer behind my blog layouts. While I am an idiot with such things, I turn to Diana to spiff up the joint every so often and she is chock full of patience, let me tell you. I tend to change my mind a lot apparently. Whatever.

Oh, and her creativity doesn't end there--she also makes her poor kid eat these wacky "bento" lunches that she creates everyday--like she doesn't have enough stuff to do. This week, poor Dori was forced to explain this to her friends at the lunch table. I can just see her telling the kids "And she has this orange cat that is really big....".

Anywho, Diana is also the proud mom of a Marching Illinois Sousaphone player. This is a huge treat as the MI are very entertaining and the evening ends with a knockout performance by them. It was fun to try to find him in the sousaphone line and to watch his proud mom photograph his every move. I don't blame her, I'd be doing the exact same thing.

I'm starting a new week ahead--one of no marching band, no contests, and (sigh) no colorguard breakfasts. But that's okay, it just gives me more time to catch up with all of you.

It all ends too quickly

2011-10-22T06:00:00.000-05:00

This weekend marks the end of Marching Season. And while I'm sad to see Em's Junior year quickly passing, I'm sort of glad to reclaim some of my personal time again.

Every season has its ups and downs and this one is no different, but it was still fun. It always is. And the second it is over, you are wishing it was starting up again. I'm not sure what I'm gonna do when this is over forever.

Well, I'll be back in action after this weekend. I'll be actually visiting and commenting on your blogs again, posting something interesting on my own, and relaxing. I can't wait.

I wonder what next year's show is gonna be....

Au Revoir, Frog Friend

2011-10-21T06:00:00.002-05:00

Aw, crap, my frog died. Maybe it was the shock of cold weather/water or the scariness of Mr. Cuddles circling his lily pad--either way, homeboy is sunning himself in the waters under the Rainbow Bridge today. And that makes me sad.

There are days when I can find hilarity in the simplest of things and events--such as the shoe-wearin' lane walkers IN the pool--but that pendulum also swings the other way--my mood can suddenly be brought down by the smallest of events as well. The sight of a dead coyote on the road, smooshed ducklings, one of my praying mantis (who die every fall anyway--you'd think I'd get used to it) lying lifeless, or dredging up dead frogs out of the pond can render my mood somber in seconds. I dunno, life snuffed out--especially animal pallies--has a deep impact on me and it takes its toll. Probably more than the average person--but that is me. I laugh hard, but I cry hard too.

Oh, to see that dotty belleh at the bottom of the pond--it just drove me crazy. Hibernation is never done upside-down, and so I knew. I knew, deep in my heart, that my little taddy wasn't slumbering--he was dead. And while I've been dealing with Miss Tinky Pants (Grace) peeing places she shouldn't be, G'ma Phyl's snappy new knee, major work changes, and pure exhaustion at the end of a very long marching season, it just brought me down. Majorly down.

I went to the hospital to be with my mom for her surgery and I left Joe the dreaded task of scooping out carnage. And let me tell you, it is not nice. While frogs are gooey and slimy on their best days, death is not becoming for them. And when I asked Joe if he was really dead, his face spoke volumes--Yes. Yes, he was dead. And it wasn't pretty. Joe scores points for handling funeral services.

I have a death/burial policy here: Fish get tossed--unless you are the bigger variety--then you get a burial. Frogs--buried....near the pond. Hamsters, buried...out front. Cats--uh, you go to wear dead cats go, but we don't have a cat burial ground here--the lack of acreage prevents that. Nobody gets flushed--it's too demeaning. Insects sort of stay where they are in order to have the earth re-claim them--it's their destiny.

I'm not sure what is more weird--that I actually have a funeral plan for everyone or that Joe sorta knows the deal. I guess that is what you get after 23 years of marriage--you sort of know what the other person expects.

I asked Joe late last night, "Did you bury him?" and without hesitation, he said "Yes. By the shed". Yeah, that's my Joe. He knows. He just knows. Frogs in my pond deserve so much more than a target bag in the end.

And so he does. Au revoir, frog pally. My dear sweet taddy. May you find warm sunshine, cool waters, and giant, yummy bugs for your dotty belleh at the Rainbow Bridge.

I love Hobbes Thursday

2011-10-20T06:00:00.001-05:00

The only one who doesn't seem to think that orange and brown are bad school colors is Hobbes. He's the Colorguard mascot--of course.

Hocus Focus

2011-10-19T06:00:00.003-05:00

Try to find the one BIG giant difference between the photos:

And no, I didn't photoshop him out--Em booted him out of the frame on the second shot when she realized what he was doing.

Joe thinks he's hilarious--we do not.

The Shadow of Me

2011-10-18T06:00:00.000-05:00

Gees, my life has been crazy this year. The summer left me with a co-worker out on maternity leave, packing me up with work responsibilities and opportunity for growth. And while I geared up for the challenge, I am finding it hard to gear down. I swear I can smell those brakes burnin' as I attempt to slow down the crazy train. And do we ever really slow down? I don't think so. I have this habit of keeping the momentum running. It's an annoying habit.

Yesterday was not such a great day. Lots of things are coming down and after a nice weekend, the events of the day wore me thin. Nothing is horrible, but nothing is great either--it's all just things that need tending to--which is sort of exhausting. I hope this passes quickly--I've got things to do.

It just happens that along with the chaos of my life, the pond needed to be shut down. There is something sad about that for me. I know that my pond friends are not all safe and sound for the winter and so I spend half of the year worrying about those pallies. Oh, if every snail would survive, if every frog awoke each spring, and if all that damn algae would die off. Funny how the things you want to survive don't, and the things you could do without, blossom. Sigh. That is just like life, isn't it?

I spent half a day resuscitating my little frog yesterday. Nothing like starting the day with a white belly facing you at the bottom of the pond. Sigh. It's these little things that set me back--set my mood on "low" for the better part of the day. I have this "frog test" which determines whether a frog is dying or if it is just hibernating, and it was put into action. I think we have "hibernation", but I'm never quite sure--only spring will tell for sure. I don't like that waiting stuff--I'm not very good at it.

I took some time last night to sit down and read some of my blog roll. I feel like I'm a shadow of myself these days--running through the have-tos and the routine without stopping to really enjoy. I'm gonna work on that this week--and while I won't be flying through all your blogs, I am going to catch up and actually read all the posts I've been missing. I'm tired of being that shadow--even if it makes me look tall and thin.

Commence working a little less and living a little bit more.

Pumpkin Hunters

2011-10-17T06:00:00.001-05:00

I spent the weekend with my three favorite people as we took a trip to visit Colin down at college. It's nice to have us together every once in awhile and being that it was a lovely fall weekend, I think it made it even better.

We found an honest-to-goodness pumpkin farm down there last year and we vowed to go back again this year. In my 48 years, this is only the second time in my life that I have actually cut a pumpkin from the vine. While that may not be a big deal to the farm pallies, this is big stuff for city folk--but we also dig rides on tractors too, so bear with us, please. I'm sure we do things like hail cabs and take escalators at the mall that sound very exotic to you all too, right?

Anywho, sights like this are not common here in Weirdville, so I was very excited to see so many choices in the pumpkin/squash fields. Of course, just one pumpkin won't do--we ended up with like 5 of them--we just kept wanting to cut those babies free of their vines. It's very liberating.....well, for the pumpkins anyway.

I'm not sure why, but I have this need to get out into the country in the fall. I love to be on the road, watching farmer's hurrying to finish plowing their fields, seeing the hues of the countryside making a natural quilt on the landscape, and feeling the fresh air on my face. It's almost like I need to say goodnight to the earth before winter hits and our world goes barren for those long months.

It was good to see Colin and certainly good to have the time off of obligations and have-tos. We come home to suitcases of laundry, Grace's continued battle with bladder infections, G'ma Phyl's upcoming snappy-new-knee surgery, and our final football game and band competition of the season. Mix in there a mammogram, band concert, hair cut, dermatologist appointment, and, oh yeah, work.

Sigh. I'm thinking I'd like someone to cut me free of the vines in my life too. Oh, to be a pumpkin!

(Please continue to vote for our band: http://www.gleegiveanote.com/vote_details.php?id=112) Thank you!! We are moving up in the line!

Pumpkin Huntin'

2011-10-15T09:20:00.000-05:00

We're off pumpkin huntin' today. And no, we aren't going to the Walmart to dig one out of a bin--we are going to an honest-to-goodness cut-your-own-pumpkin-off-the-vine sorta place.

While we are out there, I'm gonna be overloading on the smell of burning leaves, the colors changing, wooly worms trekking across country roads, and apple cider.

Have I mentioned how much I love fall?

Jaws and other stuff....

2011-10-14T06:00:00.001-05:00

Cue the "Jaws" music....

EEEK! Look out, frog!!! Dang, that Mr. Cuddles got big, didn't he? Yikes. He won't eat the frog, but I'm not sure the frog knew that.

Hey, if you are really bored and are looking for something to click on, won't you please go over to this site and vote for our school to qualify for some money towards our band program? Search "Alan B. Shepard High School", watch the video and vote for us. Please?

We are a small band (around 90 kids total) and we do amazing things, but we can do so much more with some financial help. Band equipment is badly needed and some new uniforms would be GREAT. Imagine the current combo of orange and brown---blech. You can vote (and the kids would really appreciate it if you did) every day until November 7. I rarely do pitches here, so you know how important this is to us. Thank you, pallies.

Happy Weekend! We actually have the weekend off from band competitions, so no ridiculously-early colorguard breakfasts or hauling marimbas cross country. Whew! I don't know what I'll do with all my free time, but I'm sure I'll find something. I do hope you enjoy yours.

Now go on.....but watch out for giant orange fish. You never know where they are lurking.

Who doesn't love Autumn.....and Hobbes?

2011-10-13T06:00:00.001-05:00

Do you know what is more fun than laying under a tree in the warm sunshine while watching the leaves fall? Nuthin'--just ask Hobbes. It never ceases to amaze me how he'll stay in our yard the entire day, never running away. I guess life is good right here....for all of us.

I was thinking the other day about when we first got Hobbes--it was fall and he loved nothing better than to be out in the yard with us and chase leaves and bugs and the hose and anything else that dared to move. It is something that hasn't changed in these three years--he still loves being outside with us. It's like it isn't half as much fun without someone to share it with. I have to agree with him--I can't imagine our life without him.

I realized that we celebrated Hobbes' Gotcha Day this week and it's been 3 whole years that he's been with us. Color us lucky. He's a great guy, that Hobbes, and he certainly brings a lot of fun to this house.

It's hard to remember our house without him. Even harder to believe he was ever so tiny!

And the Winner of "Guess the Blob" Contest is........

2011-10-12T06:00:00.003-05:00

Do you know who sort of guessed the Mystery Blob in my photo yesterday? I'll give you a hint: She is the biggest SmartyPants EVER and she knows like everything about goats and turkeys and stuff. AND she has a farm. And some laughing ducks.

Melodie from Laughing Duck Farm!
(this is not really a photo of Melodie--she wears a bathing suit when she swims)

Maybe it's that Texas heat that fires up her thinkin' skills, but girlfriend figured out what this is:

She originally guessed that it was a praying mantis nest. And then she guessed again saying it was bug poop or perhaps a bug egg sack. While the poop was NOT a good guess, the bug egg sack is CORRECT!

This is a praying mantis egg case (or sack) known as an ootheca. The female praying mantis creates this foamy stuff to surround her eggs for protection. It hardens after a bit and you can find them attached to stems of plants. Come spring, this bad boy will release a bunch of little baby praying mantids. I've heard that these little buggars will eat their siblings to survive--which makes for a great story for your kids--you know, it messes with their wee heads a bit.

I was doing some gardening when I found two of these on our butterfly bush--which is very exciting in my book. Of course, nobody in my family thinks this is as exciting as I do, but they all humor me and come running over to see it. Well, except the cats--they don't find anything exciting.

It is small--about the size of a quarter or maybe a 50 cent piece and it is very light--like styrofoam. It is vulnerable to wasps and so I may be cutting the branch and saving it in the shed for winter. I'd love to see those little ones hatching come spring time. I'm like that about frogs and bugs and such--it's life and I feel the need to protect it. Once a mom.....you know.

Thanks for all the wacky guesses, pallies. You are definitely some creative guessers!

And if you think she's cute, wait until you see the babies!

Who's a SmartyPants?

2011-10-11T06:00:00.001-05:00

Hey, look what I found!

Okay, I was gonna tell you all what it was and how cool it is and all that, but then I thought it might make a contest to see who can guess it. But then I remembered I don't have any cool prizes to give away like Kathy at the Junk Drawer. Darn. I won some cool Jesus Band-aids on her blog for guessing a dryer accessory correctly last month. And yes, they are very cool and people are always commenting how jealous they are when they see me wearing them--but alas, I don't have those here to give away. Bummer.

Anywho, if you can guess what this is, then I will just have to honor and say nice things about you on my blog and tell everyone how smart you are.

Go ahead, give a guess. My bets are on Sharkey--I'll bet she knows what it is.

Change.....again

2011-10-10T06:00:00.000-05:00

I love seasons. I can't imagine living somewhere where you don't have them or a cycle of change in your surroundings. There is just something about the change--in the weather, the air, the plants surrounding you, and the colors of the earth as we go from warm to cold, to warm again. It's refreshing--a re-birth, so to speak. We get to start new with every season.

As the seasons change, so do our lives. Like the tadpoles in the pond, change is inevitable and constant. And while some changes are subtle, there are some that are more pronounced.Em and I are headed off to a college tour today. Sigh. I guess change is upon us once again as Em starts wrapping up her high school years. This is a big change for all of us--especially for Joe and I as we start facing an empty nest.

It's funny how I have always loved fall--it is my favorite season. But I have mixed feelings about the autumn of our lives. On one hand, I love that the kids are nearly grown and starting to live independent lives, but I think I'm really going to miss all the fun and excitement around here. Every so often we get a little glimpse of those leaves changing and we talk about what we'll do when both kids are at college. And while plans are great--reality may be a whole different thing. Sometimes it makes me sad.

So, off we go to two different campuses today--both of us excited to see if either of these schools will be her new home. I don't think it is much of a reality for Em yet that she'll be going to college soon, so this ought to be interesting. I'm expecting some jittery moments as we first step on campus--and a few battles. This is one of those big changes--for all of us.

Who knew?!

2011-10-08T09:26:00.000-05:00

I saw this and thought of you, Grace.

It's 9:00 a.m. on Saturday morning--I've fed 10 kids breakfast, derailed some drama with a band parent, vacuumed my entire house, it's 80 degrees in October and am heading for nap before 10:45 a.m. rehearsal.

Life is good.

Friday Random Thoughts

2011-10-07T06:00:00.001-05:00

Hey, guess what I'm doing this weekend? Go ahead, guess.

Yep, pushing the damn equipment on the field again for another contest. Sigh. But at least the weather is cooperating--it's gonna be 80 degrees and sunny this weekend. Guess I won't be wearing my snappy new Marching Season hat--I don't want my head to sweat while I'm pushing that beastly marimba to the 40 yard line.

I was driving home from the foot doctor today (yeah, I'm gonna get that toe fixed in December) and I heard they found a new theme song for Monday Night football. Why we are all supposed to care about this, I don't know--but it made me laugh. I thank my afternoon radio guy for reporting the new song--and introducing me to this classic originally. Don't hate me, Helene.

I love my foot doctor--he has the smallest office EVER. I mean, you literally sit toe-to-toe with the other patients there in the waiting room. Which is interesting because everyone has foot problems and are very aware of anyone stepping on their piggies. It's hilarious to see everyone moving their feet when someone has to get up--they all but pull their legs up to their chests.

And as I went into the casting room for my snappy new orthotics, the nurse tells me to step up on the table and propel myself on my stomach. Propel? Really?! I got the giggles because I had this image of me running and sailing on my stomach like a penguin. You know--wings out, sliding on that white paper all wacky-like. So I asked her if she wanted me to take a running start. She thought I was serious--it was great.

Hey, happy weekend, pallies! Go out there and find something fun to do and report back on Monday. Find something good or funny in your ordinary day. Breathe deep and have some fun. I know I am.

Did I mention I'm pushing a marimba again? Ugh. It almost makes me miss those damn metal bleachers. Almost.

Who-the-heck-doesn't-love-Hobbes Thursday

2011-10-06T06:00:00.000-05:00

This is my cat, Hobbes.

This is my cat, Hobbes, throwing a big baby fit because

he can't go outside because it is dark and some evil raccoon

or skunk or coyote or the neighbor's cat, Mabel, will get him.

He has a definite flair for dramatics, doesn't he?

I don't know where he gets it.