Busted!

Guess who got busted trying to sneak a lick or two of the Easter prime rib that was thawing on the kitchen counter?

Oh the humiliation!

These two are sulking because they didn't think of it first. Oh, and because they're too short.

Hope you all have a wonderful holiday!

A Little Bit of Joy and a Little Bit of Oy

I found a scrap of paper on the floor the other day. I glanced at it and the top said, "THD's To-Do List For Monday". Listed were:

Look around!
Is the bathroom clean
Are the dogs fed
Does the trash need to go out
Are there dishes in the sink
Tell the manager you need more hours at work for school credit
Finish reading assignment
Hint that you need your own cellphone

Bless his heart. LOL

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On Saturday, Hubby took THD out on his errands to acquaint him with the geography of our town and to introduce him to whatever friends or associates they might run into. As I said in my last post, the phone has been ringing off the hook since THD has apparently given our unlisted phone number to every person who has asked for it (not that there is anything wrong with that). So while they were gone, I got to play social secretary.

When they got back, the Dood asked if anyone had called. I looked at my list.

"Ashley, Amber, Alyssa, Andrea and Azure called. And some girl who wouldn't leave a message."

Thanks! He grabbed the phone and raced up to the loft to start dialing.

Hubby looked at me. "Is it just me, or does it seem like he's working his way through the student body alphabetically? How many weeks do you think it will take him to get to 'Z' ?"
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I feel like breaking my foot off in my brother's butt. He went on a bender shortly after THD's arrival, and he hasn't checked in to my mother's house for the last 5 days. There are several items of mail there from the Department of Family services from the state THD was in. Including, I'm supposing, THD's medicaid transfer. The kid has 3 days left of medication, has a mental health intake next week and a doctor's appointment. But no medicaid card. Mom won't just open the mail or forward it to me, even knowing it's regarding THD (because that would be wrong), and my brother isn't returning anyone's calls. Grrr.
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Last night I was up to my elbows in meatloaf mix (you know, where you have to squish all the ingredients by hand) when the phone rang.

THD and Hubby were outside splitting wood, so I said to Little Guy, "Why don't you answer it?"

Little Guy is a bit afraid of using the telephone. Mostly because it involves spontaneous conversation, and he isn't very comfortable talking to strangers without having a rehearsed set of comments ready. Although we've practiced good phone etiquette, he was nervous.

"You can do it!" I encouraged.

So he clicked on the button. Hello? THD? He's outside, hold on. Wait. Can I tell him who's calling?

Suddenly his mouth dropped open. I'm not allowed to say that. That's not very nice.

I grabbed a towel and started wiping the glop off my hands. "Who is it?"

He pulled the phone away from his ear.

It's a VAGINA! he exclaimed in a fairly loud stage whisper.

"A what?"

He said it louder. IT'S A VAGINA!!

I took the phone from him. We've had our share of crank calls and I can verbally blister someone's eardrums with dispatch. What kind of idiot would make a nasty phone call when everyone has caller ID nowadays?

"Who is calling please?" I asked crisply.

A scared little voice said, "Is this THD's house?"

"Yes, and who are YOU?"

"Could you please tell him Regina called?" Then she hung up.

R-E-G-I-N-A. Rhymes with....

Oy. Poor kid.

Checking In...

I haven't fallen off the face of the planet, but have had such a busy week! Wanted to check in to let you know that we're all doing great, and will post more very soon.

The Happening Dude has been here a week, and we've been caught up in getting him settled in. He started school and his job, and has been making friends all over the place. The phone has been ringing off the hook---mostly girls (little hussies---snark!) with invitations for the weekend. I think he feels like the last $10.00 leather skirt at a Loehmann's sale. ;-) Fresh meat!

As always, the sad comes with the happy. He's a much more subdued kid than he was a couple of years ago. And he's so damn-uh-grateful, and feels the need to tell us constantly.

"It's like I'm dreaming!"

It's heartbreaking to hear, because all the chaos has been caused by the adults in his life who disliked each other more than they loved him and it was so unneccessary.

Hubby and I finally sat him down to tell him how very fortunate WE feel that he wanted to come and live with us. And we're going to keep telling him, and telling him and telling him.

Maybe one day soon he'll truly begin to believe it.

The Adventures of Attila and the Screaming O

I really debated over whether or not to write about this, but in the end, I just couldn't stop myself. What's a little humiliation between friends?

Hubby has been back east all week and will make it home in the wee hours tonight just in time to greet THD when he gets here tomorrow. But while he was gone, I had a little adventure of my own. ;-)

Back before the doctor cleared me for--er--moderate exercise, I was complaining a little bit about it to a friend of mine. Being the thoughtful person that she is, she sent me a gift basket with a bunch of "pamper-me" items---bath bombs, lotions, neat stuff like that.

And a little vibrator. Snarf.

Not being very familiar with those kinds of appliances (hey! no snickering in the peanut gallery!), Hubby and I had a big giggle over the name of it---The Screaming O---as we marveled over all the features ("Wow, it's got a strap to stick your finger in! Look! All you have to do is push on the bottom to turn it on! It's so small I could pick my nose with it! I could pick YOUR nose with it!)

Then we turned it on, stuck it under the sheet on the bed and laughed our heinies off as our dog kept pouncing on it and snarling in fury as she attempted to kill it.

We are easily amused.

I don't really remember what we did with it after that, and I was a little surprised to find it under the couch yesterday as I was picking up stuff before vacuuming. It had some teeth marks on it, so I suspect that somehow the dog had finally gotten a hold of it and dragged it under there to chew up. When it didn't fight back she gave up.

I stuck it in my pocket (didn't want the Little Guy to find it, because then I'd have to explain it, and he'd probably tell everybody at school and wouldn't THAT be embarrassing) and finished cleaning.

A couple of hours later I walked up to the mailboxes at the top of the road to get the mail. Ran into an elderly neighbor of ours who was walking her dog. I chatted with her for a minute and reached into my pocket for my mailbox key.

That Screaming O fell out onto the ground.

Not only did it fall on the ground, but it landed on the end where you turn it on and STARTED VIBRATING!

If that wasn't bad enough, my neighbor bent over and picked it up! While it was vibrating. I almost died.

She looked at it curiously and said, "I had no idea these came in blue!" Then she pushed the bottom and turned it off.

Before she handed it to me, she examined the teeth marks and said, "Looks like it's time to get a new one, Dear."

I can't imagine what she must have been thinking (especially the teeth marks). Worse yet, I can't believe she knew that it came in colors and how to turn it off.

I think I'm going to become a hermit. For the rest of my life.

I mean it.

Why I Heart Judge Judy

'Cause she's the Boss, Applesauce!

This is kind of long, but I enjoyed it!

Happier Than a Pig in Sh*t

This has been quite a week in our house! Lots and lots to smile about!

First of all, the Gilbert Unified School District Board met and it looks like Kevyn Barton will probably get to walk in the graduation ceremony with his classmates. My most heartfelt thanks to all of you who read my Asshat post and sent an email to the district in support of Kevyn. I'd like to think that it helped. You guys are the best!

Next on the list----very early this morning I went in to have a few more tests done on my heart to see if I need to have an electrical device implanted in my chest. I've really been stressing on this, and hardly slept at all last night.

Tried to keep a cheery attitude during the echo, but kind of dozed off for most of it. The machine puts off a lot of heat, and it was almost like being in a cacoon. Then the tech said, "Bear down really hard like you have a constipated bowel movement."

Huh? Are you serious?

"We need to see how your heart functions when you press down hard."

You mean like Elvis (who died on the pooper)?

He looked at me blankly. Ok, he was probably 10 years younger than I, and I was only about 7 or 8 when Elvis went to the Grand Ol' Opry in the sky. Tried to think of something relevant.

You mean like that mobster who burst a blood vessel on the crapper in The Sopranos?

His face cleared. "Yes. Just like that!"

Thank God I didn't rip ass. With my current diet that includes a boatload of fiber, he would have been REALLY sorry. My butt smells like a bunch of peanuts gone wild.

A couple of hours later I was completely flabbergasted when my cardiologist came into my room and said, "Congrats! All of your heart functions have regained normal levels!"

Waaaa?

My resting heart rate is at 70 (down from 136), my blood pressure is normal, the echo showed good flow and no more electrical issues, and I have no blockages. The doc thinks that I must have had a virus that attacked my heart considering that the left side was only functioning at 30% a few months ago (but admits that a "virus" is sort of a catchphrase for "we don't know wtf went wrong for sure"). I'm no longer considered to be in heart failure.

If I hadn't been wearing that shorty little wrap-in-front-barely-covering-your-hooters thingy, I prolly would have jumped up and smothered the little guy in a huge hug (he stands about boob-high to my Amazonian self and I definitely could have poked his eye out) . Visions of Kim Cattrail in Porky's restrained me.

Instead I broke down wept uncontrollably. When my guys picked me up later at the hospital, Hubby cried a little as well.

Little Guy said, "Are you guys happy crying or sad crying? Can I cry with you too? Should I be happy or sad?"

I'll most likely need to continue the meds for the rest of my life. The hypoxia/oxygen deprivation/altitude thing is a completely separate issue and so I'll have to continue with the oxygen at night indefinitely and manage that with my family doc.

Now I'm celebrating with a bottle of scotch, a pack of cigs and a gram of cocaine. And bacon. I'm eating a pound of bacon. With cheese and butter on top. Just kidding. LOL

Thank you all so much for your loving emails and supportive comments during the last 5 months. We've been very very frightened about this whole crisis, and I can't tell you how much sharing this with you and your kind responses have helped me get through it. I mean it.

Last and certainly not least, we had our last conference about THD late this afternoon. He's all ours and will be arriving in a week. Bless his heart, he's already gotten a job down here. He applied online, had a phone interview, and they asked him when can he start? Hubby picked up the application for the details and faxed it, and they want him to start as soon as he's ready.

It's just a fast food place, but we're so impressed and delighted with his initiative.

THD has been so afraid that something will happen to mess this placement up, so I kind of caught his paranoia and didn't want to post too much for fear that it might jinx it (and you never know who is monitoring the blogosphere ala Dooce).

But now the date is set and he'll be joining us very shortly. Everything is in place---school, doc, therapist and probation (yes he's still on probation for running away). He's going to get here in the middle of our spring break so he'll get a chance to get acclimated and decide what color he wants his room painted and pick out his comforter and room accessories.

I know that's all very basic, and we need to address and be on top of all of his other issues.

But just for tonight we're going to bask in the anticipation of THD joining our family and feeling very blessed for so very many reasons.

Hope you guys have a wonderful weekend. Like I said before, you're the best!

ATM

Life's A Drag

I've always been a huge fan of RuPaul. Not only is he more beautiful than I am, but I like his message about loving yourself as you are and accepting others as they are, and if you hang onto your dreams anything is possible.

Hubby, on the other hand---while he thinks Ru is a fabulous showman/woman---is a bit uncomfortable with drag queens in general. I think the gorgeous ones disturb him. I KNOW the "tucking" thing makes him cringe.

He likes drag queens of the Jack Lemmon/Tony Curtis variety. You know that they're really guys underneath and you'd never be drunk enough to take one home with you by accident.

So last week I was folding clothes in front of the tube and clicking to find something mindless to watch. I came across "RuPaul's Drag Race" on the Logo Channel which I've never seen before. Wooboy! It's a drag queen reality show contest that seems to be a mixture of Project Runway, Survivor, American Idol, Dancing with the Stars, America's Next Top Model and Queer Eye all rolled into one. I was fascinated.

The episode that I caught happened to be the "Girl Group" episode. The challenge for the contestants was to split into two teams, and perform (lip sync) a Destiny's Child song. They had to do everything----sew costumes, choreograph, use unfamiliar wigs and make-up (provided by the sponsor), etc within a limited time.

Hubby had been doing something manly out in the garage and strolled through the living room while one of the groups was performing their final product. "Whatcha watching?"

They're lip-synching, I said distractedly. And they had to make their own costumes from scratch. Aren't they beautiful?

He watched for a moment, agreed and went off to whatever destination he had originally been heading.

After the performances, RuPaul and the judges critiqued them. Then Ru asked each who they'd vote off the island.

I simply don't remember all the names, so I'm making them up. But it went a little something like this:

Ongina (ok I DID remember that name): Since I'm the team leader, I couldn't vote any of the other girls off. This challenge was my responsibility so I'll throw myself under the bus and vote myself off.

Cinnamon: I don't want to vote anybody off! I love everybody! I'd vote off Clara because she has immunity.

Clara: Do I have to pick somebody? I love everybody too, and I don't want anyone to go!

RuPaul: Yes you have to pick somebody. Who would it be?

Clara: Uh, uh. I guess I'd pick Shanelle. (Shanelle looks shocked) I'd pick Shanelle because she's so beautiful and talented and I know she's going to be fierce competition and will probably win, so if I HAVE to pick anybody I'd pick Shanelle. (turns to Shanelle) I'm sorry sweetie! (the two give each other a big warm hug and air kiss).

My mouth was just hanging open. A couple of minutes later, Hubby came through the living room on his way back to the garage.

Wait, wait, you have to see this! I rewound that portion of the program.

After it was done, I said, Can you believe how caring and supportive they were instead of clawing each other's eyes out?

"I wonder where they found so many kind girls, " he replied. "They're not like those ferocious b*tches on The Bachelor".

snarf.

I didn't have the heart to tell him they were doods. ;-)

Well at least not for a couple of days.

________________

Weee! I found a clip of the performance. The whole thing is about 5 minutes long and it's near the end.

Random Aiigghhh!

I used to think that eyeballs were the creepiest thing in the world.

Now after my foray into heavy-duty diuretics and the world of public restrooms, I've changed my mind.

It's a toilet seat that's been warmed up by someone else's bare butt. Aiighhh!
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I've been putting together a rotating chore schedule for when THD gets here (Little Guy is thrilled that someone else will get to take a turn emptying the dishwasher) and it occurred to me that this "citizen of the household" thing is kind of stupid. The theory behind it is that since we all contribute to the mess in communal areas (we all eat, track in dirt, generate garbage, etc) as opposed to personal messes (the only one who cleans Hubby's bathroom is Hubby), we all take turns cleaning it up as "citizens of the household".

This is something we've done as soon as the guys were big enough to empty a bathroom-sized trashcan, so it's nothing new. I've never been June Cleaver---following my family around with a Hoover.

I realized that all the guys (even Hubby) expect effusive thanks and praise when they've taken their turn, as if they're doing me a huge favor. Has anybody ever said, "Thanks Hon for doing a nice job on the dishes"? No. But if I'm not there with the "atta boys" I get treated to pouts and pointed silence.

You've come a long way, Baby! Not! What have I done? Aiighhhh!
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A few weeks ago I reached under my pillow to pull out the end of my nose hose (I tuck it in there to keep it from falling on the floor) while I was getting ready for bed. My hand closed around something crackly and I pulled out a ginormous squirming spider.

Now I have to tear the entire bed apart every single night before I get into it. Aigggggghhh!

Got Aiiggghhhh!!!? Love to hear it!

It Could Always Be Worse...

Yesterday a friend sent me a really funny website. I think its been around for awhile (tons of readers and contributors) but it's the first time I've ever seen it. Wasted about an hour on it laughing my heinie off.

It's called "F*** My Life", and no, not safe for children. People write in anonymously and tell about an awful experience they've had and readers vote about the horribleness of it all.

A few cringeworthy and funny ones that caught my eye?

"Today, I was a TA for a history class and the class was taking a test. About halfway through, I noticed one kid had a small piece of paper in his hand. I ran up the row, grabbed his test, and ripped it into four pieces. Then I took the note from him. It said "I believe in you, -Mom." FML"

"Today, I went to get a condom because my boyfriend and I were going to have sex for the first time. When I opened the drawer, I saw that every single condom had a Jesus pin stabbed through it, and a note on top of the box: "love mom." FML"

"Today, my brother joked that our dog was more attractive than I was. I looked to my mom for support, and she said "Well, she is pure bred." FML"

I think I'm going to save this just for bad days. Then I can be reminded that somewhere out there, there is somebody having a crappier day than I am. ;-)

My FML moment(s)? There have been plenty, but one stands out:

When I was in high school, I was in the cast of Grease. We were having a dress rehearsal, and some classes from the middle school came over to watch. During the slumber party scene when the character "Marty" was singing "Freddie My Love" I slipped off the bed during a tricky bit of choreography. The audience roared. I thought it was because of that impromptu bit of sketch comedy. It wasn't.

My jammie pants had caught on a bolt that was holding the footboard together and had gotten yanked down a bit.

I wasn't wearing panties. FML

You got any moments you want to share?

Breaking News...

The former Richard Cranium award contender wrote a lovely apology and has removed the offending post.

I figure I'd be a real dickhead myself if I didn't do the same. :-)

Hope you guys have a great weekend!

We Interrupt Our Programming....

I know I've been totally off the grid this week, but things around the Attila house are happening much more quickly than anticipated.

It looks like we'll be getting THD within a few weeks instead of a few months. So, I've been running around like a doof who lit a fart on fire trying to get everything in place. Paperwork, paperwork and MORE paperwork.

Will fill you all in during the next day or two. :-)

In the meantime...

If you're in the east, have a little extra room in your house and a little bigger room in your heart to host a child---the Fresh Air Fund people sent me this and asked me to post it on the blog.

Asshat of the Week

This week's Asshat goes to Gilbert Unified School District superintendent Dave Allison.

Kevyn Barton is an 18-year-old student who has disabilities in the Gilbert School District. This May, when his peers walk down in their gowns for commencement, Kevyn won't be with them. Why? Because he's in the transitional program for special-needs kids and will receive services until he's 22.

What a crock of doody.

Here's how it works. Although Little Guy "could" have graduated with his peers, the state offers transitional services until he is 21. With those he is learning life skills such as money management and job training. Although he still goes to the high school, he doesn't participate in regular classes any more except for choir (which entailed some extra finagling on our part).

He goes straight to the transitional room and from there either to his apprenticeship job or to the van that takes him into the city to life classes not offered in our particular district. In the transitions room, he is usually working on things like meal planning, balancing his checkbook, navigating the transit system, etc. He has very little interaction with other high school students at all.

They are not his peers.

At any time, we can accept his diploma. When that happens, we are telling the state that their job is done and that Little Guy no longer needs educational services from them. It will be over. Ta-da.

Even though we refused his diploma, as a senior, Little Guy was allowed to participate fully in graduation with his class. The only difference was that the diploma case he received was empty. He got to walk down the aisle with the students and friends he was raised with---the ones he shared birthday parties, school dances and even chicken pox with.

When his name was called, all of these blessed children gave him a screaming standing ovation, sharing their love and recognition as one of their own.

Tomorrow they are going away to college and jobs and their new lives. Graduation night is their very last chance to celebrate as a class.

Gilbert School Superintendent Dave Allison has the discretion to allow Kevyn to participate in this magical rite of passage. But he has refused.

He is "upholding a board policy that exists for consistency's sake and often is enforced with students who, for example, have failed a final exam or a course."

"It wouldn't be fair to say 'yes' to Kevyn and 'no' to the other kids."

So what? What do you think the term "special" in "special needs" means? It means there are extraordinary circumstances.

And who gives two poops about "fair"? Do you think that it was "fair" for Kevyn to be handed these extra challenges in his life that necessitate his participation in a transitional program?

Kevyn will never have another opportunity to experience this rite of passage with his peers.

And yes I say his peers, because these are the kids he has grown up with----not the kids who will be graduating 3-4 years from now. When he is "allowed" to participate in graduation exercises then, who of them will know him? Who will recognize or care about how hard he has worked to get to that day?

Who will be there to give him his ovation?

That's why you, Mr. Allison, are this week's Asshat.

Anyone want to share their feelings with the Gilbert District, you can do so at PJ_Sessoms@gilbert.k12.az.us

I'm going to go kick something now.

A Bundle of Joy

Well, believe it or not, it's looks like I'm going to become a mom again.

Yep. That's right.

Didn't think I had it in me, did ya?




Now that you've picked yourself off the floor, I just have to say one thing...

It's not what you think. ;-)

I used to write about my nephew, The Happening Dude. If you click on the tag you can read what a neat kid he is.

To make a long, convoluted and ugly story short...

THD is my older brother's son. He and his ex-wife adopted THD out of foster care when he was about 6, shortly before they divorced. She got (my brother didn't fight it and had a sh*tty lawyer) sole custody of all of their children and promptly moved them to another state with her new boyfriend. My brother saw them about once or twice a year.

I love my brother, but bless his heart (or damn his soul---take your pick), he is not a very responsible parent.

Anyhoo several years later, ex-wife and new hubby had a baby, and decided that they just didn't have room for THD any more. She called my brother and said, take him or I'm returning him to foster care.

See. I said it was ugly.

So that's how THD came to our family. I'd only ever seen him twice in his life before that and he'd just been a little guy.

At the time, my brother had moved back to our state and was living with our parents, trying to "get back on his feet". THD lived with all of them for the next 3 years, and the majority of the child rearing fell to my mom. To give her a break, Hubby and I would have THD on school breaks and the odd weekend.

We all adore him. He's a delightful kid.

Almost 3 years ago, brother's ex and her new hubby got divorced. Ex decided to move back to her home state, and while her new ex hubby would pay child support, he had no intention of financing the lifestyle to which she wanted to become accustomed. She wanted THD and his adoption subsidy back. She promised him things would be different and that he could come visit us in the summer.

And he wanted his mom and missed his siblings, so we didn't fight it.

It didn't last a year. He stole some cash from her and ran away. I wrote about it here. He was running away to us.

The police picked him up 3 cities over at the bus terminal a couple of days later.

That is the very last we heard of The Happening Dude. Seriously.

Ex refused to come and get him, and demanded that he be in a juvenile center until his case came up (she pressed charges for the theft of money). As his sole custodial parent, she also demanded that none of us be allowed to have any contact with him whatsoever. The only information we've had about him in the last year and a half is that he's been in a juvenile group home. We weren't allowed to write, call, pass on messages or even know what city he was in.

Until now.

Apparently the state has been trying to work on reunification and ex has been resisting. They finally basically told her to "sh*t or get off the pot" already and she informed them that she never wanted THD back. She just didn't want any of us to have him. She'd rather he stay in foster care instead of being in a family if it meant coming back to us.

Nice, huh?

The state told her that if she had no intention of reunification, they were going to contact the rest of the family to see if anyone wanted him. She signed over her rights.

My mom got a call from them 3 weeks ago. They said, "is there anyone there who is willing and able to care for THD?"

And Mom gave them a big resounding YES!

Unfortunately, at her age, my mom doesn't feel up to parenting an active 17-year-old full-time. My brother doesn't have a fixed address and travels with his work. My younger brother and his SO work full time so nobody would be home after school (not a really good idea).

So that leaves us. I'm home, we have a good disability support system up here (THD was born with FAS and has some learning disabilities), and we already have medical caregivers in place, so we wouldn't have to hunt one down to sign him up. THD can spend breaks and the odd weekend with his dad and grandma to give US a break if we need it.

We had a family meeting about it to see what the guys thought. Hubby, was of course immediately on board from the beginning. Little Guy was ecstatic.

I explained it all very carefully to the Big Kid. We're all still adjusting to his move, and I didn't want him to feel like we were replacing him.

"You have to go get him, Mom. We can't leave him there. You should give him my old room."

That's my boy. Coming through when it's needed most.

We have a meeting (phone conference) in about 10 days. If all goes well, we might have THD by May.

I got to speak to him for the first time in almost 2 years a couple of days ago. Told him that we hoped that he knew that we wanted to reach out to him but weren't allowed to, and that all of us---his dad, grandma, uncle, me and my guys loved him and missed him terribly. He would always have a place with us.

"So does that mean I get to come home?"

I hope so, Kiddo.

Young Love aka Gak! Hormones!

Around a year ago, I wrote about Little Guy and his girlfriend Hot Cutie. Even though he's not actually in high school any more, he attends their transitions program and sees her there a few times a week. Twice a week they are in an apprenticeship program together so they get to spend a little time together. They also see each other out of school.

Hot Cutie's mom and I have had to get on them a bit because they make plans without consulting anyone and spring it on us at the last minute. Both of Hot Cutie's parents work down in the city, so sharing driving duties is often inconvenient for them.

Anyhoo, last month, Hot Cutie's mom and I were confabbing about their most recent plans and she suddenly said, "We're only going to be able to have Little Guy at our house on weekends now. I don't think they should be alone here without supervision."

Oh no. Did something happen?

Once in awhile Little Guy goes to Hot Cutie's house after school and hangs out for an hour or so. As far as I know, they walk her dogs and play on her swing set. She also serenades him with her bongo drums and he dances for her. Did they decide to make fondue and set the kitchen on fire? Break into the wine cabinet?

"Hot Cutie told me that Little Guy tried to kiss her. And that she told him that she was going to wait for marriage. If he's at that stage, I don't think they should be alone together."

Ok, to be perfectly honest, my first reaction was of indignance. I sort of felt like she was practically accusing my son of being a rapist. I politely assured her that as always, they were more than welcome to socialize at my house, where I would be with them every minute and keep a close watch on her daughter's virtue. Not.

Little Guy is 18, Hot Cutie is 19. They've been girlfriend and boyfriend for almost 3 years now. They are legally adults. What's the harm in a little kissing fer pete's sakes?

What could be a problem is if he was trying to force kisses on her. Or if the bongo drum dancing was done nekkid in their front yard and alarming the neighbors.

So I tried to investigate. Had a talk with Little Guy and tried to impress on him that if he wanted to kiss Hot Cutie and she said "no", he had to respect that.

He looked at me like I was insane.

Hot Cutie came over to hang out last week. As usual, they played pool up in the loft, and watched Judge Judy (she's the boss, applesauce!). Then they went into Little Guy's room to listen to music and dance.

After a while, feeling like a sneak, I crept down the hall to do my due diligence and make sure there wasn't any panty-grabbing going on. I mean the door was open---as always---but I felt that the whole "checking up on them" thing is invasive and shows a lack of trust in Little Guy's ability to be independent.

When I was a couple of feet from the door, I heard Hot Cutie.

"But why can't I kiss you, Little Guy?" she asked plaintively. "You're my boyfriend!"

"Because we're supposed to be married", he answered crossly. "My mom said if I say no, you have to respect that!"

I snuck back down the hall, and went directly outside to the front porch. Where I just about laughed myself into a stroke.

I simply couldn't help myself.

Boy is HER mom going to be in for a big surprise!

After this incident I realized that I am in way over my head and contacted the Independence Center. Luckily, they have a social relationships class starting next week, and the school will provide transportation. Sign us up!

You Got What?

Yesterday was a really good day. I went to see my cardiologist and everything is looking great. The tests show that my heart has regained a significant amount of function on the left side. I won't have to see him for 6 weeks and I'm going to have another echo so he can eyeball what's going on electrically and decide whether or not I'll need a defibrillator implanted. So far, it looks like I won't need it. Woohoo!

The doc doubled my dose of one of my heart meds and cleared me for moderate exercise. With all that water loss and restored oxygen I've been itching to go out and walk on the nice days. I have more energy than I've had in years, and really need to burn some of it off.

To celebrate, Hubby brought home ice cream and brandy. With all that's been going on, it's been a really long time since we've been able to run around nekkid and scare the dogs. ;-)

Little Guy stayed with a friend.

Needless to say, a good time was had by all. Except the dogs. They spent the night incarcerated.

When we woke up this morning, Hubby snuggled up to me and growled in my ear. Feeling mighty frisky, my man was. I'm pretty sure that wasn't a gun in his pocket, because well...you know...he wasn't wearing pockets.

Oh crap! I sat up. I forgot to use the oxygen last night!

I'm still at the point where I feel like if I don't follow the doc's directions explicitly, I'm going to suddenly wake up dead one morning. I'm supposed to be on oxygen all night while I sleep. Does that mean I should walk around with my nose hose for 5 or 6 hours today, or could I just skip it and wait until bedtime? I reached down to the floor and groped around for the hose.

"Leave it." Hubby tried to pull me back. "Another 30 minutes won't kill you."

I muttered something that he missed because my head was over the side of the bed. 50 feet of hose has to end somewhere, doesn't it?

"You want to play "Naughty Nurse"?" His ears perked up. "Are you going to take my temperature or am I going to take yours?"

I rolled back onto my pillow with the end of the nose hose in my hand.

No, I said why don't we play "Naughty Nursing Home"? I can be the invalid with the nose hose and you can be the dirty old gray-haired man from down the hall who sneaks in my room to ravish me.

He turned 10 shades of red.

"Oh God," he groaned as he flopped back on his side of the bed. "You really know how to kill a mood!"

Awww c'mon, I wheedled. You don't even have to pretend that you still have all your teeth!

Ok, we're demented. But that's what passes for entertainment in the Attila home.

And it's nice to see that I can still make my old man blush. ;-)