Farewell, My Friend

Martha Callahan called me to let me know that Charlie passed away this afternoon.


I was able to talk to him for a little while last week when he was moved to hospice. He didn't want anyone to blog about it until after he was gone. Charlie, being Charlie, didn't want us to fret over him. Martha has asked me to write a little something to let all his friends know.


I met Charlie when I started my blog 6 years ago. He was my first friend in blogland. We bonded over a mutual loathing of Nora Roberts and her writing, if you can believe it. :-) Although we've never met in person, we've talked on the phone from time to time over the years.


During a conversation after Christmas, he wanted his blog friends to know how much you meant to him. He hadn't been able to get out and around for quite a while, and having you in his life became a whole new world. And near the end, during our last conversation, he was thinking of us---people he'd never met in real life---but people who brought a lot of joy to him.


I looked around for an appropriate poem or quote to use for this---something solemn and deep and meaningful. But every time I found a poem with possibilities, I could just hear him snorting into my ear, "what a load of crap!"


So what would Charlie have said? I imagine it would have been something like "See, I told you I was sick!" That would have been more his style, smartass that he was.


There's an old Inuit legend that talks about the stars in the night sky. "Perhaps they are not the stars, but rather openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy."


I want to remember you with that, Charlie.


Tonight I'm going to go outside and tell the stars how much I'm going to miss you. I hope you can hear me.


Godspeed, my dear, dear friend.


If anyone wants to say words in celebration of Charlie's life on his blog, I'm sure it will be a comfort to Martha.


Blessings to all,
Attila the Mom

Sometimes You Just Gotta Say...

Sorry I've been out of the loop for a couple of weeks. I took some much needed R & R to recover from the holiday season both at home and work.

I've been catching up on all the recorded shows I missed and trying to veg-out a bit. Hard to do with everybody in the family wanting/needing something, but I'm doing my best.

Ok, being the juvenile potty-humorist that I am (I blame adoption, I really do!), a couple of commercials have me going WTF?

The first is that vaginal deodorant ad where the character says, "I found out the hard way..."

How? How did you find out? Did your hubby come to bed with a clothespin on his nose? Did somebody on the bus exclaim, "girlfriend, you got some funk?" Did you sit on the lawn and make your own crop circle when all the grass and flowers wilted around your stanky butt? How?

The other commercial that has my head spinning is the new Activia commercial.

Jamie Lee Curtis says, "Keep a video diary and let me know about your new normal"!

Huh? What are you supposed to video? The results in the bowl? You with a smile on your face every day saying, "I just dropped a huge doody, and boy do I feel great!!"???

WTF?

Holiday Hell aka No Good Deed...

Ok, gotta get this off my chest. Hopefully you guys will throw me a bone and share a holiday from hell story from your past or present so I don't feel so crappy. LOL

My ex-father-in-law is a narcissistic control freak. I've talked about him before and about my issues with him. Both of his children have fled the state and want nothing to do with him. My ex-hubby's inability to deal with him played a part in my decision to divorce.

As the mother of his two oldest grandchildren, I've basically inherited the irascible bastard. After my divorce from his son and over the years, we've hammered out a civil relationship based on---"you follow my rules or you don't get to spend time with my kids".

It's not malice on my part. I recognize the need for my kids to having loving familial relationships. But I also know why Ex-FIL's kids want nothing to do with him. He was an autocratic, abusive bully.

Having f*cked up with his own children, I have to admit that "R", as I'll call him, has worked hard to stay on my good side and has worked hard to be a good grandfather over the years. We've come to have a mutual and tentative respect for each other and our roles in the boys' lives.

Now he is in his 70's, lives alone in an assisted living place, where he scares the crap out of the other residents by bullying them into joining him in his self-styled regimen of diet and exercise. LOL He gets around ok, it's just that he's had some financial and medical setbacks over the past few years.

And he's starting to lose what mind he has left. You know what I mean---some older people get to a point where they just don't care about good manners or they revert back to being the same asshole they were before they started "mellowing".

This year for the first time, he's started trying to march Hubby and I around like we were his actual children, not people who put up with him for the sake of the grandchildren.

Against everybody else's better judgement, I invited R for Christmas dinner. I mean the guy has NOBODY. He's chased his own kids away, and has few friends. I just knew that I couldn't stand the guilt I'd feel thinking that he would be alone for the holidays. And hey---it's good for the kids to spend a little time with him, as tough as it can be (R is the kind of person who has to be the center of attention and monopolizes every conversation to make it revolve around himself, his life, his opinions).

I said, "We'll have dinner and festivities from 2 to 4, so that will give you time to drive home while it's still light" (it's about an hour and a half drive).

Christmas Day dawned early and bright. Got up early, put the stockings under the tree, made breakfast. All the kids (including Kitty) were here, as well as a friend who has been staying as a houseguest. Had a lovely time opening gifts.

Then it hit me. I hurt. I hurt everywhere. From my scalp (which felt like it was on fire) down to my toes. My back ached, my hips ached, my legs ached. I was exhausted and could barely move.

I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia a few years ago. It's been very mild so far and treatable with aspirin or advil. I guess this was my first big "attack". I was down for the count.

Went to bed and woke up a couple of hours later. If possible, I felt worse. My friend said, "You know things are bad when even your eyelashes hurt". Luckily I had prepared the entire Christmas dinner in advance and all it needed was to be heated in the oven. Hubby to the rescue!

As usual, Ex-FIL called to say he would be late, never taking into account that he would upset plans other people made for the rest of the day. Hubby tried to head him off at the pass, saying that I was ill and that we should get together another time. But no, that would be too easy. R was "on his way" and nothing would stop him.

I woke up long enough to chat with him (and apologize for my state) for about 15 or 20 minutes before collapsing back into bed. The kids were kind of freaking out---mom sick? Oh no! The world is ending!

Slept through most of the rest of it, so it was relayed to me by the survivors.

After the meal and visiting, he Just Wouldn't Leave. Even though the Aspiring Adult had plans with his friends and Kitty and Big Kid had to go see her parents, R's car was blocking them in the driveway and he Just Wouldn't Leave. Finally, after ignoring hints and their obvious desperation, Hubby asked him to move his car (it was around 5pm at this time). He moved his car, parked it back in the driveway and parked his ass back on the couch.

Some time later he mentioned that since he was already down here, he thought he'd spend the night and go see some of his friends in the morning. Sorry Dude, no room at the inn. I mean really, where did he think we would put him? Our houseguest is sleeping in Little Guy's room, and Little Guy, Big Kid and Kitty were bunked out in sleeping bags up in the loft.

So he "instructed" my hubby to find him a motel in the area. He was willing to pay $35 a night.

Was he freaking serious? Really? On Christmas? Up here in a mountain town? Even in the off-season, you can't get a room up here for $35 a night.

Hubby, with infinite patience I might add, called up the locals. No go. So R called down to the city (about a half an hour away) and found himself a room. Told them to expect him around 8 or 9pm. Oy.

Around 7, I stumbled out of our room. I heard R's voice and thought I was hallucinating. I turned around and went back to bed.

A little later, just after Hubby had packed up the remains of Christmas dinner and cleaned the kitchen, R says to him. "Since all of the restaurants are probably closed, how about making me a meal to take with me?"

As it turned out, Hubby and Houseguest spent hours entertaining my ex-FIL long after the kids had bailed and left the reservation. Of course that meant listening to the incessant monologue about his life, his interests, his political opinions. He even went out to his car and brought in a bag of jewelry (that was his hobby before he retired) to show our houseguest every piece "because she was so interested" (she wasn't). And then tried to sell her some because he's hard up for cash.

I've apologized over and over for abandoning them to what is essentially, a problem person that I have inherited. They've been very kind about it, but it was a very stressful day. I slept for a day and a night, and felt 100% better afterwards.

The worst part is that next year I'll feel all guilty because he's alone and invite him again, because I always forget THERE'S A REASON HE'S ALL ALONE!!

Grrr.

Synchronicity

Well, I actually had a Holiday from Hell story, but I'm trying to be upbeat and positive. LOL

Maybe I'll share it later in the week if any of you have similar stories to tell.

As many of you guys know, I'm adopted and that after a long search and journey, I finally found my birth family about 10 years ago. My birth father didn't want to acknowledge a relationship, which I respect, but I've developed a close, loving and lasting relationship with my birth mother and her side of the family.

Many people who grow up within their intact biological families take their shared traits and experiences in stride as being part of a tribe. Is it nature or nurture? Really can't tell.

Parents who adopted from my generation were told that we were little "blank slates" ready to be imprinted with whatever they could "nurture" into us. "Nature" had no value in the psychology of the 60's.

Fast forward a number of years. Many adoptees and birthparents who've reunited have reported eerie happenings of similarity and parallels in our lives.

We call it synchronicity.

As an example, one adoptee I know moved to Arizona because her husband was transferred in his job. She had never lived there, didn't know anybody, or have any friends there, so she volunteered at a terminal cancer ward in a local hospital to bring books and visit with patients there. They were there for about a year.

A few years later after they had moved away and when she had a successful search, she found that her birth father was one of the terminal patients she was ministering to.

How freaky is that?

So here is my synchronicity story.

My birthmom's birthday is around Christmas, so I always send her two presents together. One is her favorite perfume, the other is totally random.

One year I was looking at designer purses online. Since I can't afford the REALLY expensive shit (Louis Vuitton, Kate Spade, etc), I was looking hard at some lesser designers. One designer I really liked, but I rethought it, because buying somebody a purse is as personal as buying underwear. I passed, and bought her something a little more neutral.

What did she send ME for Xmas? The purse I was loving and thinking of sending to HER!

Another year I sent her a zippy red patent leather tote that I thought she would be stylin' in. Turns out she bought the very same tote for a good friend of hers for Xmas.

The year I was diagnosed with heart failure and lost 100 lbs of water, my skin was really loose and dry. In early December I searched around to find SOMETHING that might help me retain some elasticity and decided to splurge on some Clinique Watertherapy (out of the blue. Normally I buy something cheap like Jergens or Vaseline Intensive Care).

What did she send me for Xmas? A basket of Clinique Watertherapy!

So this year, birth mother made a move farther up the east coast where it gets cold, cold, cold. I sent the same favorite foof, and thought I'd send her something to reflect her new climes. A cashmere scarf and gloves.

What did she send ME?

A fantastically gorgeous scarf and gloves. LOL

We had a huge laugh over it. It was another WTF moment.

I talked to my Mom about it today (my adoptive mom). She was one of the parents that the adoption agency told that "nature" was irrelevant and that I was a little blank slate she could imprint herself on. We had another laugh over it all.

She thought she "broke" me because I ended up so quirky.

Mom's so relieved to know that it's all genetic and not her fault.

Snarf.

'Twas the Week Before Christmas

‘Twas the week before Christmas, and in the Attila house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung on the mantel above,
The guys hope Mom will fill them with love.
(Or better yet, cash)

My offspring were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of I-phones danced in their heads.
Hubby in skivvies and I in my sweats,
Were dreaming of all our holiday debts.

When out of the phone there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
I ran to answer, it was 4 in the morn
Who could it be? It was my first born.

"Are you ok?” I breathlessly said.
"I threw up" he cried, "and I pooped in the bed!”
His voice was filled with such angst and doom;
I convinced him to nix the emergency room.

"It sounds like a bout of the stomach flu.
You will feel better if you follow these rules.
Nothing to eat or drink, just a little water,
and call me later if you start feeling hotter.”

In 24 hours he was a new man,
But then Kitty was puking it up in the can.
We heard on the news of the flu going round
It was another day ‘til she could keep any food down.

The next day my youngest called from his job.
"Mom I’ve got a really big prob.
I’ve been hurling and crapping all morning long,
They won’t send me home and that’s just plain wrong!”

A day after that the kid passed the buck.
Little Guy was awash in a ton of upchuck.
He was so sick; he didn’t fight,
Spent the day in bed sipping broth and flat Sprite.

Two days later I thought we were out of the woods.
Then I woke up and didn’t feel so good.
In fact, I felt sick as a dog;
Was it the flu or the shits from too much egg nog?

Now we’re all better, but stomachs are tender.
If we receive fruit cake, it’s “Return to Sender”.
Christmas dinner is here in our little venue,
So I asked the boys what to leave off the menu.

No eggnog, no pickles, no pumpkin pie,
No bean salad or coleslaw for any one of the guys.
No seafood, corn or even glazed carrots,
And a list of still more; they won’t even dare it.

Christmas dinner in our house will be a bland affair,
But I can serve mashed potatoes with a definite flair.
I wish for the Holidays that your bowels stay tight.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!

Love from the Attila Family!

More Angels

Just got done with our final Holiday Show, and I have to say it completely wiped us out!! Although the weather was really crappy and snowy, there was a decent turn-out, and as for volume---I think we did as good or better than most of the vendors there!

My hubby was a saint. Because parking was limited and far away, he came every hour or so, and picked one of us up and dropped one of us off. That way we always had two people at the booth, but was able to have a breather---work two hours and take one off.

When it was my turn, I had peeled off a big chunk of money from "the wad" (as we called it), plus a check someone wrote us. I didn't want to carry around an excess of big bills, so I asked him to take it home and put it someplace safe.

That night, when we got home, we couldn't find it. And he couldn't remember what he did with it. It was a very very busy day for all of us, and we were all exhausted. He tore the house apart, tore his vehicle apart, etc etc etc. I figured it would show up somewhere, and I was too tired to be worried.

The next day I told a lady at a neighboring booth about it, and she gathered a bunch of vendors together and made everybody put their hands up and call on Saint Anthony---the Saint of finding lost things. Then she firmly stated that it would come back to us.

It was very funny and sweet, and I was touched that the other vendors joined in. There is a lot of camraderie with this group of people.

This lady was a hoot. She was manning a fundraiser booth and she took some of our ornaments and looped them around her ears like earrings and went out in the crowd trying to goad people to our booth. She didn't just do that for us, but for other vendors as well. I think she did wonders for our sales.

Little Guy jumped in with the sales too. He shook hands with passersby and introduced himself (and didn't even ask to see their socks!). He saw quite a few friends that he hadn't seen in awhile and had a wonderful time.

When we got home, again exhausted, Hubby still hadn't been able to find the money. We did pretty well without it, but it really was a bit of a blow. He was beating himself up about it, and I finally said, "PLEASE PLEASE STOP!! If it shows up, it shows up, if it doesn't, it doesn't. I'm feeling worse about YOU feeling bad than about the money!!"

On Monday, I sent the Aspiring Adult to the bank to deposit all the checks we had received. About an hour later, the bank called. I thought it was a problem with one of the checks (one lady had almost walked away without signing hers and I wondered if I had missed one).

"Is this Attila the Mom?" the teller asked. I said, why yes it is.

"There's a man here who just brought in a large sum of cash and a check with your name on it. He's been trying to locate you. Could you tell me about this money?"

I did and did it eagerly! LOL

Turns out this guy found the wad in the snow at the shopping center. Apparently it fell out of Hubby's pocket when he went to pick up sodas and stuff.

And he saved it for two days and went to the bank where the check was from to try to trace me through the person who wrote the check. The teller JUST HAPPENED to be the person who processed my deposit a short time earlier and recognized my name.

How freaking neat is that?

I asked her to give him some of the money as a reward, but he refused it. But she DID happen to note his name and where he worked.

I'm gonna send the guy a gift basket.

Now doesn't that sort of restore some of your faith in humanity?

It does for me. :-)

There's 4 days left to win an ornament and a $50 dollar Visa gift card over at The Fifty Factor. Drop on by!

ATM

Angels Among Us

They really DO exist! Joanna Jenkins from The Fifty Factor is hosting a giveaway of one of our ornaments plus a $50.00 Visa Gift Card.

Drop on by and register with her. Remember that we ship worldwide, so this giveaway is open to everybody!

xo

ATM

Bling For Everyone!

Hi all,

We had such a darned time working with the shopping cart on our website that we just don't have enough MORE time to mess with it because we're gearing up for our busy season.

Soooo...we've moved our inventory to Ruby Plaza, where their shopping carts are working just fine!



Check back often because we'll be adding new inventory frequently during the next two weeks.

Also, if you're interested in a custom team-color ornament such as we have listed for your favorite sports fan, we'll be taking orders up until November 30th.



Go take a look and let me know what you think!

HighlandRosesDesign

xoxo

ATM

Busy, Busy, Busy!!

I'm so sorry I haven't been around to visit you all or posting. I'm exhausted, but ecstatic.

As my long-time blog friends know, a few years ago I started a collaborative craft studio for adults who have developmental disabilities or mental illnesses (and for family caregivers).

It started out as an informal endeavor for art therapy in my dining room, and expanded to an actual business.

First we sold our Christmas creations online, and last year we sold in three venues plus from our website.

This year it's expanded to 8--yes---8 venues, not including on the web! Our ornaments are going to be at one craft show, our town's Home and Garden Tour Boutique, a fine arts gallery up in the big city, 3 gift shops (one is an internationally famous institution that I'm not allowed to name) and a couple of local organizations.

Woohoo!

I'll probably be hawking our stuff a time or two in the next month. Please bear with me. I don't ever try to sell crap or advertisements on my blog for any reason. Our website hasn't been yet been updated, but it will be in the next couple of weeks. We've been so inundated with real-time orders for our ornaments that this has fallen a bit on the wayside.

I've been asked a few times in the last year by a couple of organizations to talk to them about my non-profit project.

I've had to decline, simply because we're not a non-profit.

Why does everybody seem to think that if you employ people who have disabilities, you have to be a non-profit? Sheesh! Why can't we be capitalists too?

We accept no grants or government funding.

The philosophy behind this project?

There is dignity in producing something useful or beautiful. There is dignity in being able to produce something that is lovely and saleable on its own without having to be subsidized because of a perceived disabled condition.

I'll let you guys know when our website has been updated.

Hopefully you'll find something beautiful there that you just have to have this holiday season!

xoxox

ATM

Date Night

My husband is a saint. I've told you guys over the years how fantastic he is and it's true. Except for one day of the year. Then he's a raging bonehead.

7 or 8 years ago, we put in a pool in our backyard. There is no rec center or YMCA in our town, and for several summers we had to drive the boys down from the mountains into the city so that they could get swimming lessons. One year we decided to forgo our yearly vacation and use the money to put in an outside heated pool instead.

It's been really great for everybody. Except for "pool closing day", which is usually in September.

I dread it.

My mostly easy-going and sweet hubby turns into another person. To close the pool for the winter, we have to drain it by half, put in a bunch of big blow up balls (to keep the remaining water from freezing over), tie down a couple of big heavy-duty tarps and then have the pool company come and disconnect the gas heater.

The first year I helped. But after he started screaming and cussing up a blue moon, I told him that I would never help again. Since then, he's gone through all the boys as helpers---whoever is there and available---and each year, the asshat comes out.

He has an idea of how everything will work in his head. He doesn't articulate it well to whoever is helping. So he gets frustrated and all kinds of foul language flies out of his butt.

Since the weather has been so great, he didn't close the pool until yesterday. And the minion available for "helping" was the Aspiring Adult.

Little Guy was away last night, so I scheduled it as "date night". It's been ages since Hubby and I have had a night alone together and I made reservations at a local steak house a week ago. The fact that the Aspiring Adult had the day off from work was sudden and coincidental, so Hubby planned to have him help close the pool.

Gah.

Yes, the day went as usual. The Aspiring Adult put up with his shit and they got the pool closed.

When the Aspiring Adult found out that we had plans to go out to dinner (without him) he got a little whiny. According to him, old people don't need time alone, since it's inconceivable that in our decrepitude we'd have any romantic feelings (oh! the horror!) left. We never take HIM out to dinner (uh---the last time we all went out we treated not only him, but his girlfriend as well). But since he was the designated "pool helper" this year, I compromised and agreed to bring him home a steak dinner.

At the restaurant, Mr. Grumpy was still---well grumpy. I wasn't planning on spending two hours without kids with THAT, so extreme measures had to be taken.

While the waiter (young college guy) was taking our drink order, Hubby was looking at the menu. "What's the soup of the day?" he asked.

The waiter went into a rambling description of the chef's specialty, Brussels Sprouts Bisque.

"Hmm, sounds good."

NO! I blurted out. If you eat that, you'll be farting all night long! The waiter's jaw dropped.

Hubby started snickering. "You're right. Guess I better pass." The waiter scurried off to get our drinks. When he came back, we were ready to order.

My beloved ordered the crab dip.

I ordered the Brussels Sprouts Bisque.

The waiter raised his eyebrows, and said, "er, Ma'am, aren't you worried about the-er-unfortunate side effects?"

Of course not, I responded breezily. My farts I can stand. His, on the other hand, are dreadful.

Then Hubby and I burst out laughing. By the end of the meal, when we shared a heavenly Banana's Foster, my saint was back.

Oh golly, we're such juveniles! Good thing the Aspiring Adult wasn't there. He'd be so embarrassed.

The Poop

Geez Louise! This past week the stomach flu hit half the family, one right after another. First Kitty, then Hubby, then Little Guy, then Big Kid. Only the Aspiring Adult and I escaped (knock on wood).

On the good side, the Aspiring Adult passed his CNA certification exams. Woohoo!

More later...

Come Together...

Ok. Well this is awkward. But I'd like to hear some experiences, just as--uh--maybe a poll---if you will, from some of my friends in blogland.

Men, this will prolly be more awkward for you, so feel free to run, run like hell.

When I was a teen and early 20ish person, my reading taste ran to the historical romantic bodice rippers (I still think that Jennifer Wilde's Angel in Scarlet is the best romance novel ever written. The fact that the author turned out to be an aging man with a bad comb-over really freaked me out for a lot of years).

Later my taste turned to horror (Steven King, Anne Rice, etc), and ultimately to mystery/thrillers.

While my friend KL was here, I turned her on to some of my fave authors (Beverly Connor, Charlene Harris, Elizabeth George and Martha Grimes). We went to the library and borrowed a buttload of books.

Anyhoo, I picked up a few old romance favorites for nostalgia's sake, just because...and then sampled what those authors had written since then, and then tried a few more. I like Amanda Quick, except that she tends to pick a sexual phrase and beat it to death within each particular book. I mean how many times can a man's kiss be "drugging"? Gah.

Now that I'm older, and have been around the block a time or two, I'm viewing these books with a different eye. Instead of thinking that this stuff is the ultimate in romantic relationships, I'm thinking, "who in the hell are you kidding?"

I remember my first time with sex as being awkward, painful and a bit messy. Yes I was certainly aroused and interested to begin with, but did it turn out to be explosively satisfying?

No.

I wondered what the big freaking deal was.

I've read 10 books in a row, and in each one, the hero has (after the brief, painful thrust) brought his lover to the heights of ecstasy. Has this actually happened to anyone?

In my case at the time I was wondering "oh geez am I bleeding all over the place?" and "Oh God, I feel like I'm going to fart!" Actually having an orgasm wasn't even in the ballpark. I just didn't want to embarrass myself.

I've been married twice, and had a few boyfriends in between. Sex has never been a problem in my long-term relationships. It's mostly been fun, freaky and fabulous.

But never, ever have we reached "the moment" at the same time.

In my 20's it made me feel inadequate when I read those books. I thought that "two hearts that beat as one" means you should be able to time yourselves and work together to--uh--share the moment.

I'd just like to read ONE book where the heroine turns to her lover after he's limp and lifeless and says, "I'm not done yet. Can you get the fireworks out of your eyes and come over here and help finish me off?"

LOL

So what's been YOUR experience? C'mon, don't be shy!

People are Weird

Do you ever read comments about a book or a movie or a show and think, "WTF? Are we talking about the same book, movie, show? That is so NOT what I took away from it?" Then you spend a bit of time being boggled about how people view things differently?

I've written before about my unwholesome addiction to the "Real Housewives" franchise. I didn't watch the Miami series, but did catch the Beverly Hills one last year, because I was a big Kim Richards fan as a kid and was having a "Where are they now?" moment. Oy vey. Wasn't planning on watching it again.

One of the Housewives was going through marital issues and had separated from her husband this past year during filming of the new season. About a week ago, he committed suicide, around a month before the new season will air. I clicked on the link to the story and was stupid enough to read the comments.

One that really caught my eye said something like, "OMG!! She was such a bad wife!! She freaked out because he bought their daughter a really CUTE puppy for her birthday!"

Gah. What I saw was a guy who was rarely at home (in person and in mind), mention to his wife something about buying their daughter a puppy for her birthday, and she said no. Because he wasn't going to be around to help train it, feed it, walk it, and she was feeling overwhelmed and didn't want all the extra crap on her plate. So what did he do? Buy the kid a puppy and present it to her at her huge birthday party, making the mom look like an ogre if she said no.

Turns out the kid was allergic to the dog, and mom not only had to deal with all the puppy issues, but take the kid to an allergist frequently to make them compatible. It wasn't working, so mom had to deal with the heartbreak with the kid over giving the dog away.

Bad bad wife. :::sigh:::

Lost My Marbles

My good friend KL came and stayed with us for June and July. She's decided to give our little burg a chance and is moving up here to the mountains in the beginning of September. Little Guy is ecstatic, because she's more like an aunt then a friend, and you know him, he's all about family.

While she was here, I related a story about how when the boys were little, Big Kid was always looking for a chance to tattle on Little Guy. The problem was that Little Guy NEVER did anything (other than the annoyance of just existing as a younger sibling) that needed to be tattled on. He cleaned up after himself, never got into other people's stuff, didn't start fights, etc.

Poor Big Kid had to live with the frustration. But that didn't stop him.

He'd whine, "Mooooooom!! Little Guy--he's--he's DOING!" LOL

That whole story came to mind after seeing the Home Depot commercial where they use the slogan "More Saving. More Doing."

So for the whole 2 months that KL was here, every time we heard the word, one of us would race to shout "DOING"!! no matter where we were in the house. Then hubby and the kids started "doing" it.

Yeah, I know. We're easily amused. For some reason, the memory tickled our collective funny bone.

Anyway, I usually shop at 6am when the grocery stores open. I like it because it's quiet, there's nobody there, and I don't have to get annoyed by the freaking car carts filled with a dozen kids that block the aisles. It's like having the store to myself.

A couple of weeks ago I was in the store bright and early. I'd only had a half a cup of coffee (don't like having to use public bathrooms) and was a little groggy. While I was looking distractedly for a coupon in my binder (I KNOW it's in there!) I heard a couple of other shoppers in the next aisle.

"What are you doing?" she asked her companion.

"DOING!!" I shouted before I could stop myself.

Gak.

Then I ran away. Real fast.

Road Trip

Just got back from our "vacay". LOL

Since Little Guy couldn't go visit his bio-dad in California this year (b-dad didn't have any vacation time or money to fly Little Guy out there), we decided to try to give our boy a mini-vacay instead. We've footed the bill for the last 5 years to fly our guy out to see his b-dad, and this year it was his turn. His wife already has her hands full with their three young sons, and we (bio-dad and I) didn't feel it was worth it to fly Little Guy out there (on our dime again) if they couldn't spend any quality time together.

WE weren't planning any substantial getaways, simply because Hubby is working 2 jobs and just doesn't have the time. I asked Little Guy what would be an acceptable substitute that he would be satisfied with.

He decided that he would LOVE to:

Go to the big city and see his grandparents, go to the amusement park, and see a friend that we haven't seen in several years.

So last month I insisted that Hubby reschedule anything he had going this particular weekend (NOT TAKING NO FOR AN ANSWER!). I got my oldest brother to take Little Guy to the amusement park for the day (he's the only one who can stomach the rides), and we spent the rest of the weekend driving between restaurants meeting up with people and sleeping in strange beds. Urgh.

Little Guy had a fantastic time.

Me? The highlight of the entire weekend was when we were stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic for 3 hours and my two guys were singing the chorus of "It's Raining Men" in the car.

Too cute. I laughed my ass off.