A Little Pressure

As I've mentioned before, I work with men. Usually, there are only three in my office, then there are four who spend most of their days either in fields, or in the shop. Right now we have extra men roaming the property because they're adding onto one of our storage facilities. There are about six of these guys. The men who don't work directly in the office building, still manage to come in frequently for breaks or whatnot (the bathroom is in here, as well as the vending machines).

One of my office co-workers has this.

Yesterday, he decided to be funny. The manager in charge of the new construction was in the office making some phone calls. I and my "roommate" (what I call the guy who shares my space) , and this jokester put the "noisy" part of this toy in our office. Then, he proceeded to remotely activate it while sitting across the building in his office. We have big glass windows between the three offices, so we can see each other. I can't see the guy making the phone calls, but the others can... they say he keeps looking at our office with a puzzled look on his face. We're biting our tongues trying not to bust out laughing. Then...the "roommate" leaves the building! Yeah, you know what's coming next... ppppffffftttt....!

They figure when this guy got off the phone he probably went outside and said, "I don't know HOW those guys can stand to be in the office with that woman! She was farting up a STORM!"

Update:
About 5 minutes ago the plant manager (the one with the toy) put it in his pocket and he and my "roommate"were going to go out and just walk through the construction... and he was going to bend over and let 'er rip... maybe now they won't think it's ME anymore...! Then again...

I Missed It!

Oh. My. God. I can't believe it. I missed it. Me. The Queen of the Calendars. The Appointment Diva. The "One Who Remembers Your Birthday When You Don't".

I missed my blog-versary! A year ago, August 26, I started this journey into cyberspace. A year. That's longer than I've stuck by almost any diet thing in my life (excluding kids and Hubby, of course!) As with you, this space as evolved...most of you now intimately familiar with my family and extended family and ex-tended family. Some of you originally thought it seemed sappy and sentimental and have since learned although I am sappy and sentimental, I'm also bitter and bitchy and sarcastic and oh-so-wise-beyond-my-years. (Just checking to see if you were still here.)

We've gone back and forth with tales of critters and grandcritters and children and grandchild and gardens and weather and crisis and contentment. What a hodgepodge a year makes! I started this mostly for myself... a kind of on-line secret diary that I figured no one in my real life would ever find. Silly me. I forgot I have friends like bloodhounds and one daughter who is my clone. Still, I've prided myself on trying not to let that deter what I say or how I say it. I figure they know me well enough to let the fur fly where it may.

Ironically enough, I'm not a people-person in real life, but in this media I've found I enjoy hearing from others and reading about others' lives. I enjoy the validation I get in comments and e-mails that my opinion does matter and gee...someone besides me "gets" my MIL. That we all have co-workers that are disgusting or we can commiserate when a mommy has to go back to work or cheer when someone has a beautiful friendship blossom into a relationship. Although we all walk on tip-toes when it comes to discussing co-workers, some of us have paid the ultimate price for this honesty. To share in another's unbounded joy or someone's heartbreak. A blessing in disguise? A warning? Or just a chance for us to send out virtual hugs...? I've found people I consider friends, although I've never met them. Some of them almost a spiritual twining. I've seen pictures of people young enough to be my kids, with kids of their own. I've had contact with people from coast to coast and listened to some of the bravest, most honest (and sometimes disturbing ) stories from some of the most talented writers I've ever had the privilege to read. Some people I've just found and I know as time goes on I'll find more. I'm just having so much fun sharing your lives and your stories. I want to thank you.

Wow. A year. Those of you with kids or debilitating illness can understand how quickly that can go by. I can't believe I've been sitting here spitting all this out into cyberspace like some three-day-old undercooked chicken. You'd think it would end sometime, huh? Lucky for you... I've still got words.

Cracking the Egg Pt.II

Once upon a time - about 26 years ago -I had a girlfriend who was dating my someday-to-be BIL. She was a gold-digger. A "me-me-me" woman. One thing on her mind. It wasn't all her fault. Her father had raised her and her sister to look out for "Number One" first. That was her goal. Marry money, to heck with love.

BIL wasn't rich, by any means, but he did have a good job and was still in his 20's and living with his parents. He tried to give this girl anything she wanted. Remember, this was the late 70's... she wanted a rabbit fur jacket. He got it for her. She gloated. She would go on and on about this dumb guy who would buy her anything... then she was planning on breaking up with him when she got what she wanted.

I'm no moral compass, believe me, but I don't like to see people taken advantage of. That just is a pet peeve of mine. By this time, I'd met his brother - my someday-to-be Hubby. I fell fast and hard - and, according to him - he did too. I felt especially protective of BIL because I knew this girl and felt he was really being taken for a ride.

So, I spilled the beans. I got him aside one night when we were at the state fair and had spent a little too much time in the cattleman's bar. I was feeling particularily protective, because I'd just gotten reamed out by one of Hubby's friends about not taking advantage of him and BIL had actually come to my rescue! I confided in him that K was taking him for a big ride. He cried. I think he really had come to love her... but I thought at that moment we truly bonded.

Flash forward 20 years.

I've put up with BIL's B.S. for years. Tolerated the fact that he doesn't respect my husband one iota. Tolerated his brats boys. Tolerated his Barnum-and-Bailey in-laws and his witchy wife. But I won't tolerate him telling Hubby that he "never really got over that stuff in '95 and he'll put up with me, and try to be nice to me when we're together, but he really doesn't like me anymore".

Go Bite Yourself HARD. Like I need your approval, you pompous ass. You and your wife are the biggest hypocondriacs there are in this town, yet when someone has a real, live, debilitating illness, all you can do is go with the gossip-mongers and choose to believe your brother's wife stepped out on him . You asshat.

Someday this is going to come out. We all try to 'play nice' because of MIL, but we avoid each other like the plague. I refuse to feel like a reject because part of my family can't relate to real human pain. Guess what? I don't care. I feel badly that I should be kinder to my husband's family - I'm an only child and don't have anyone except my parents that he has to put up with. It would bother me more, except I know he's relating to what I'm feeling. He says his brother isn't bad - by himself - but get him anywhere around his wife and/or kids and it's a whole other story. Me, I can't tolerate him any more by himself, either.

Sometimes I will have a Dr. Phil moment when I say to myself, "You can be bigger than this. You can go make up with BIL"... then about the time I have myself talked into it, he'll do something so totally disrespectful of my husband that I'll just say, "Piss on it", and let the anger roll over me.

I'm sure this isn't the last time I'll be talking about this, as it's a really sore subject. (Couldn't tell, could ya?) I'll try not to let it dominate the site, tho'. I've got better things to do. Gotta keep this ol' egg glued together, you know...

Cracking the Egg Pt.I

Once upon a time there was this very nice lady who lost her mind. Lost her marbles. Cracked up. In polite language, had a nervous breakdown. It seems there were a lot of things this nice lady was keeping inside. For years... and years. Things that you'll have to go to the other blog to read about.

At any rate, when this nice lady 'lost it' there were some casualties. The first and foremost being her husband. This man has the patience of Job. You wouldn't know it on a daily basis, because he has a tendency to get a little riled up about things, but in the big picture he is a marshmellow. He rants and raves, then goes back and apologizes to whoever he has just ranted and raved at. He feels badly for days if he doesn' t get that opportunity. He's very old fashioned and rather stoic when it comes to pain. He doesn't like to see anyone in pain - physical or emotional. Especially emotional.

She came to the relationship damaged goods. Physically and mentally. Some of it he knew about, some of it she thought she had under control and would never have to let out of it's special box. Like most of the rest of us know, monsters cannot be boxed forever. Eventually they have to come out.

When hers came out, it came out in a big way.

Several months went by full of pain and anger and severe depression. Suicide was contemplated and dismssed. Divorce was contemplated and dismissed. Leaving was contemplated and acted on. She drove across country to visit a relative she thought could help with part of her rage by answering some long-lost questions. So desperate was she to leave, she didn't bother to make sure and contact this relative, so when she had been gone for a few days her husband called this relative and then found she hadn't called, nor had she shown up yet. He'd spoken to her on the phone, but she wouldn't say for sure where she was... some therapists brilliant idea to make her face independence. It almost killed him. He was desparate and scared and lost. He didn't know which end was up.

She sat in motel rooms and drove through deserts and played music to drown out the echos of ghosts in her head. She missed her children more than she ever thought possible. When she left, she felt they'd be so much better off without her. She realized it didn't matter. She needed them. She finally came to a peace of mind - a decision that would change her forever. She faced the fact that in the big picture the only thing that could change at this point was her. She talked to her husband. She admitted she needed him. She told him she'd changed. She told him where she was. He was terrified at what he was going to find when his plane landed....They spent time together getting to know each other again and trying to put the pieces back together. They went to the relatives' house - together - and found the answers she'd been seeking. It didn't seem so important anymore.

Home, they were more alive than ever before. They began making plans for a future - not just living from day to day. They decided they had a future... a solid future. They faced the people they'd left behind who, as people do, had come to their own conclusions of what had happened. She left him. They'd whisper behind their backs. Poor guy. We always knew she was trouble. Now she's proved it.

They put it behind them and moved on. She's much better now.

Okay, WHO Told?

Hubby comes home tonight and tells me he's been talking to his brother. This in itself is not usually a good thing. Okay, I'm bad. I don't care - he and I have history and it's gonna come to a head one of these days. Another time, another story.

It seems MIL has been talking to BIL. MIL has been making pronouncements of how SHE is going camping this weekend to the races in the RV. WTF??? How did SHE find out? How did this happen? How can we stop it?

I have the sickening feeling we can't.

Would anyone like to offer to take my MIL to some alternate location this weekend? I'm open to suggestions...

Shark Baby

Go here if you want to see the cutest little grandcritter you could ever hope to see... yeah, I'm biased... so sue me!

Storm Warning

Reading Brad's blog this morning he was talking about hurricanes and our midwest version, tornados and it got me thinking about storms in general. When our four kids were young, we lived in an older farmhouse that had the master bedroom on the main floor, and two bedrooms up under the eves upstairs. The two girls slept in one room and for awhile, the two boys slept in another (ES got to the point he couldn't stand his little brother so moved into the 'dungeon' - our unfinished, dank, damp, icky basement).

The stairs that went up to these rooms were very narrow and shallow (the steps themselves weren't very deep). Hubby grew up in this house, and his room was upstairs, so even as a man with size 11 feet, he could go up and down those stairs like a man on fire. Me, I went slowly, putting each foot sideways on the steps, holding onto the railing for dear life, and STILL managed to fall down them a couple of times!

Because of the steps being so trecherous, I was always paranoid that if lightening would strike during a storm, or if we'd have a tornado warning (that usually gives you about a 10-15 minute warning, if that), it would be hard to get all the kids downstairs in a timely fashion. We started a routine, that if there were storm warnings out, we'd just have the kids sleep in the livingroom. That solved a lot of trouble. My kids are notoriously deep sleepers, too. Especially the oldest one. We'd go upstairs to wake them and make them move downstairs and I'd think she was awake - she'd be talking to me and walking toward the stairs - when I'd turn around and she'd be back in bed! She'd do that more than once! It was a comedy trying to get them all awake enough to get downstairs, as they were all too big to carry! Finally, we'd get them down there and settled, and at least I knew if I had to get them the rest of the way, it would be easier without having to deal with those stairs.

Now, when there are storm warnings, I just start worrying about the critters and how to get them all crated or shut in the "safe" room so they'll be okay. Maybe Hubby IS right... all the kids are grown, so I'm having to have something to take care of. He must not think he's enough.

Innuendo

My father is the king of innuendo. His favorite line when I was a kid was to say something risque' to someone, then say, "It takes two - you must be thinking the same thing! I was talking totally innocently". Uh huh. Right. When you're a teenager, this becomes the point where you want the floor to open up and swallow you before the person he is talking to figures out he's related to you.

When my Uncle (my mother's brother) was in college, he came to see us for dinner and brought a girl. My dad took it upon himself to tease them about when they were getting married! As it turned out, they DID get married, but he couldn't know that at the time. He was guessing, since it was the first girl my Uncle had brought to meet us.

Well, he's older, but still just as bad. A couple of weeks ago when we had the family over for my son's graduation, he brought his newly 'formalized' girlfriend. I say this, because my son has always had friends who were girls. Just friends. Pals. He's had some girlfriends in the past, but even then he still had the pals. He's just that kind of a guy. So, recently he and this girl decided they would become more than pals and would 'officially' start dating. Enter my father. Let's put it this way, by the time I got out to the deck, my dad had grilled her to where her face was this red. He had the nerve to ask her how their sex life was, and how often...! Sheesh, Dad! He cleaned it up a bit when MIL walked out and said he'd asked girlfriend how often they....kissed. Right.

I'm glad ES warned her. I apologized to her, but sometimes that's just not enough. Geez...

Racing Flashback I

Hubby: So, I'm standing on top of the car trailer getting ready for the race to start. They get out the green flag, YS's coming around... they're picking up speed...I'm totally focused...and...
Me: YES?!?!
Hubby: Mom (MIL) pokes me in the side until she gets my attention and whispers something at me. Now, you know I can't hear worth a damn to start with, then she's whispering and the cars are roaring, so I lean down to see what she wants...
Me:...?
Hubby: "Do I want a drink of water?"
Me:...
Hubby: Her second favorite question - "Did you see the golf game this afternoon?"
Me: ...sorry...

Camping Flashback I

YS: Did you notice P wasn't hanging around much?
Hubby: Yeah... what was the deal? I thought he was going to be staying with us.
YS: Grandma was driving him crazy. You know how she stands on top of the car trailer with you and is always grabbing your belt?
Hubby: Yes...
YS: She did it to P.
Hubby: NO!
YS: Yes. That's why he went to the bar both nights. To get away from Grandma.
Hubby:...

He's Soooo Cheap...

How Cheap Is He? Those of you who are old enough to remember Johnny Carson, will get it.

I have a co-worker. He is cheap. Not just frugal, mind you (this is MIL's word - she, too, is cheap, but refuses to be called cheap), but cheap. Those other of us in the office occasionally bring in treats of some sort, or even provide lunch. Nothing fancy, but one of us will bring a crock pot of chili or chicken and noodles, grill burgers, you get the idea. Not B. Twice a year, almost by clockwork, B will bring in a pan of brownies his wife has baked. He takes credit, although we all know his wife has done it.

(He calls her Mother. I don't know about you, but I have a Dad and my Husband is NOT my dad, so unless I'm talking to my children I refuse to call him Dad.)

The rest of the time, B feels not one bit of shame at helping himself to whatever goodies we bring. I'm talking helping himself. If he had a wooden leg, I wouldn't be surprised to see him stuffing it full of chocolate chip cookies!

Occasionally he brings treats. For himself. He brings them into the office and sneaks them into his desk drawer. The other guys go in when he's outside and see what he's brought. Just for fun. We have a pop machine twenty feet from his office door and the pop is 50 cents. Pretty cheap in this day and age. He brought in a little refrigerator and keeps his pop in it. Same kind. HIS.

One day he brought in a big, mouthwatering cinnamon roll. Two of us saw him bring it in... something, anyway. He snuck it down by his side and tried to act nonchelaunt (sp?) as he walked through the office. It only made us suspicious. We checked his drawer while he was in the bathroom. Oh...how good it looked! Two hours later, I saw him sneak it back out of his desk and over to the storage room, where I presumed he ate it as he didn't have it when he came back out ten minutes later.

He's always up for free lunches if one of the salesmen are buying, but if it's up to him to buy his own lunch he'll just go home where "Mother" will make his lunch. (Yes, she works full time).

When you pitch in to buy a gift from the office, he's always the last one to contribute and often has to be reminded several times of the amount - as though he can't remember it's ten dollars. Uh huh.

He was on vacation last week, but had to stop by the office one evening for something. One of the other guys had a newspaper laying on his desk he'd not gotten around to reading yet. When he came in the next day, the paper was gone. Who could have taken it? B. Only he is too cheap to go buy his own. He wanted the grocery ads.

The only guy cheaper that him that I know is my BIL. That's another story.

Back In the World

Hi everybody! Thank you to all of you for your kind words. "Ye warm the cockles of me hart..." Oooo...that was bad. At any rate, I'm back in the land of the living. It's been a crazy week. I'll try to nutshell it for you:

Monday: Work for a few hours, then Hubby asks me to go trucking with him to Cedar Rapids hauling corn. As weird as it sounds, that usually turns out to be quality time with him. He doesn't have TV distractions, or phones ringing, and we just ride along and visit. I enjoy going.

Tuesday: Turning inside out. Why? Who knows. Throw up so hard I pull a muscle in my back. WTF? I didn't need THIS!

Wednesday: Ice. Pack. Sit. Read.
Thursday: ditto
Friday: ditto
Saturday: ditto

See? ...and you thought I'd been having fun without you!

I must mention I read a good book (well, I actually read 5, but I'm only discussing one). If you haven't read The Time Traveler's Wife , you should. That's all I'm saying, 'cause I don't want to ruin for you if you haven't read it, but it's much better and more interesting than I thought it was going to be.

Saturday, Youngest Son won his race! Whoo hoo! He's back in the lead on track points and there is only one more "official" race to go. If he finishes the race - even if he doesn't win - he should be the track champ. Don't tell anyone - we're planning on camping at the track next weekend. If you tell MIL I'm gonna hunt you down and punish you severely!!! Yeah, we're being sneaky. We're going to try and go without telling her. Of course, she goes every weekend to the race with Hubby, so he's going to have to get reeeallly creative with his story. I'm not sure what he's going to say, but supposedly he's got it all worked out. Between you and me, I'll believe it when I see it. I'm sure there is going to be some glitch and we'll be thrown back into the twilight zone of MIL and the RV, but we can hope, right?

Hubby is sitting on the deck last night: Do you ever get the feeling things are going tooo good?
Me: Quite a change from a week ago, huh?
Hubby: Yeah. Scary.
Me: Glad we don't live in New Orleans. Those poor people. Can you imagine having to leave your home and not knowing if it's going to be there the next time you see it?
Hubby: Yeah. Some newscaster said this could be the end of New Orleans!
Me: We're very lucky.

We're so thankful for our family, friends, and good fortune. Take a minute to hug the ones you love. Thanks again, blogfriends... it's always amazing to me how people can connect over this weird thing called the internet.

Welcome to the Roller Coaster

Warning: There is somewhat of a lecture here. Please read it anyway.

My life is anything but boring. It goes from terrifying lows to equally terrifying highs. All the medication in the world doesn't help.

In the world of farming, things are a little shaky right now. Thank GOD we are blessed with what appears to be a good crop. In Illinois and Missouri, the crops aren't looking very good - they pretty much burned up this summer. We got some timely rains and that helped immensely. However, as you out there are preparing to put gasoline in your vehicles to go to work and are in sticker shock about the prices, I would mention that we not only have to put gas in our pickups and small go-to-work cars, but in our farm equipment. Diesel fuel right now (off-road) is over twice what it was last fall at this time - almost three times as much. Tractors that easily burn 200 gallons a day while working. The cooperatives want us to fill our on-farm barrels before the price goes up further. We're talking $8,000, people. We purchase LP gas to use in our grain dryers. It, too, has gone up.... as have the fertilizers and anhydrous we use to produce a crop... they are made with natural gas and therefore the price has increased for those too.

However, the price for our grain right now is at an almost all-time low. We spend more for a gallon of gas than we are paid for a bushel of corn. Think about that. Everyone wants cheap food. People, more often than not, blame the farmer for any increases in food costs. Believe me... we are not the ones seeing the increase! The people on both ends of us are the ones that see the increases. Our production costs keep skyrocketing and the middle-men tack on the increases that you see. We get squeezed in the middle.

Another thing I'd just like you to think about a minute. Do you know right now how much money you're going to make this month? This year? Is your insurance subsidized by your employer? Do you worry when it hails that you will lose your whole years' income?

We pay our own insurance. All of it. It isn't cheap, but is critical as we also work in one of the most dangerous jobs there are. We don't have the luxery of knowing what we'll make from year to year. Oh, we can make guesses, but they are based on how much grain is raised per acre, and how much that grain is worth - minus the costs of production. When we started out this year, we didn't even know if we would have a crop. Would there be a drought, like hit Illinois? Will we have pests that eat the crop? We do what we can to prevent such things, but some like the weather are totally out of our control, and if we do have to spray for pests that is another cost added to the production. Mid-year our fuel prices leapt into the air (as did yours), but diesel is still more expensive than gasoline and our tractors, combines, semi-trucks, all run on diesel. If we do have a crop, then we have to rely on someone in Chicago (the Board of Trade) to determine what our grain is going to be worth. Will China be importing? Will Russia be exporting? Will there be rain in Chicago? How much is on hand? It gets nuts trying to figure out what prices will be and why. There used to be some kind of a rhyme or reason to that, but even common sense has gone out the window where marketing is concerned.

It's a good life, don't get me wrong. I love living in the country and some of the freedoms it provides. You have to be a very self-motivated person, however, which my husband is. He's done this his whole life, except for the four years he served his country in the Navy. You have to be disciplined and get yourself out there every day to do what needs to be done - and in the fall and spring when there is planting and harvesting to be done, you won't be home for dinner. Ever. They are long days. But it is good. It would just be nice to have a fighting chance at making an income that is reasonable. To get a good price for our grain that would pay all the input costs and possibly give us some extra, instead of feeling like we're living from hand to mouth some days.

End of lecture.

Yesterday we talked about selling our new house. We've only lived there a little over a year and we love it. It's our dream house. It isn't huge, but compared to what we came from, it is. It is ours (well, the banks', of course)... instead of living in a house that came with the farmstead and is a rental where you are constantly at the whim of the landlord as to when the house can be painted or repairs can be made, unless you want to pay for them all yourself. My husband lived in the old house practically his whole life and now our son lives there. We raised our children there and though it feels like our (old) home, it was never ours. This is ours, but hasn't felt like it because we both feel we don't deserve something this nice.... and we're always afraid that something will come along and take it away.

Yesterday we thought we were to that point. We looked at the bills we still had to pay to get through the rest of the year. We looked at the increase in fuel costs, fertilizer costs, seed costs... and what our grain is worth today. We cried. A lot. We hugged. A lot. We told ourselves not to love anything that can't love you back. We called our son and told him we might have to move back to the old house. We all sat in shock and stared at the beautiful house we may not have much longer. Hubby said he would sell the whole field, as he wouldn't be able to go by it and know someone else was living there. He wept for what he feels is his failure. He says he wishes we'd never built it - it would have been better to never have had it then to have had it and lose it. My heart broke with his pain, more than for my own.

This morning we went to the banker and laid it all out. We told him we thought we'd have to sell the house. He stared at both of us and said, no...no...no...NO. He looked at our financials and said we still had plenty of equity in equipment and land and even some room to play with the cash flow and he could give us more money to see us through the rest of the year until crops start coming in. He reminded us he is conservative and he wouldn't extend it to us unless he knew it would work. He gave us some suggestions to free up some grain for delivery that had been stored and sealed to pay off our old operating note. He saw the tears well up in my husbands' eyes talking about me offering to sell the house, and he looked at me and said, "You will die in that house". (I know that sounds ominous, but believe me, it was a good thing.)

We left the bank back on top of the rollercoaster. We called our son and rejoiced. We talked and hugged and cried and thanked the powers that be for the intervention that just had happened. We were exhausted. We went home and sat on our deck and looked at our house and my husband was finally able to say, "I finally feel it is ours and we are going to be here forever".

Me too.

Down

Not a good day. Can't talk about it now. Maybe later.

It Was Only A Matter of Time

YS didn't have a very good night racing. He blew up his transmission. Damn. He's gone from being several points ahead in the track points lead, to now falling a couple behind. He's only got a couple of regular races to get back in the lead. Keep happy thoughts! It wasn't a good night in raceland...

The Butter Cow

Don't say I never give you what you ask for!

Empty Nest - Again

The nest is empty - again. Our eldest son graduated from college and moved to a nearby town week before last, and our youngest daughter who was here visiting this week on vacation is safely back at home. Tonight is race night, so Hubby is with MIL (all-together now, everyone say, "poor guy") and Youngest son and probably DIL2b (I'll just refer to her from now on as DIL2b, 'cause if it doesn't happen it will be a miracle) at the track going for his 5th or 6th win in a row. (I say 6, Hubby thinks 5)

Friday daughter and I went to get haircuts. She got about 12" taken off and looks very cute and mature now. She worried all day about what SIL would say, but when she got home it met with his approval. The mantra for the day, was "It'll grow back". It's just at her shoulder and is rather choppy-cut and is something different for her. She's not had hair that short for years. Me, I just got trimmed. Now that mine is pretty short it has to be trimmed more often. Hubby still says he likes it... but that got me thinking.

He always has claimed in the past that each time he tells me my hair looks nice... I change it. Usually a new cut. So... I'm trying to decide if this is reverse-psychology. Is he voluntarily telling me my hair looks nice and he likes it because he really does like it? Or is he saying it in the hopes that I'll run right out and change it? Hmmm... I asked him that, and he claims it's because he really likes it. Hope so, 'cause it's lots easier to take care of and is way different than I've had it forever and I'm going to keep it this way until I get tired of it. Guess if he starts hating it he'll step on that land mine when he gets to it.

After haircuts, we went to a neighboring town for some parts for her vehicle. YS was doing some minor repair work on it for her (what a guy!), so we picked up the parts. Then off to the local restaurant. This is one of those itty-bitty places that's been in the family for several generations and has the best homecooked food. All you have to do is look at the cooks/waitresses (they take turns cooking and serving) and you can tell this isn't diet food. This is mmmmm mmmmm good food. Not someplace you'd want to eat daily, but is the local farmer coffee shop in the morning, and normally the local hot spot at lunchtime, too. Occasionally we get supper there - next to eating at home, it's the best... and far enough away from the bigger town that the crowds aren't horrid. Hubby claims nobody in this town owns a stove.

After being stuffed with hot beef sandwiches (with potatoes and gravy, you know) and large pieces of homemade pie with ice cream, it was time to go home and have a power nap!

Daughter and grandcritter loaded up late afternoon and headed home, where we heard later she arrived safely. Eldest son is still phoning and e-mailing me for recipes. One of his old roomates took his recipe book I'd made for him with all the family recipes. Suppose I should have gotten another one made before he moved out, but forgot that it should have been on my list. After awhile he'll have them all at this rate, anyway!

It's sure quiet around here... Oh, wait... I hear puppies barking...

The Other Side Update

In a tragic turn of events, I found out something last night about the female in this relationship that has turned me cold. A little over a year ago a co-worker of mine got married. This was a few months after this couple got married.

The woman went to the brides' bachelorette party, the man to the groom's bachelor party (at a strip club - no surprise). The man and grooms' co-workers were at his party, along with male members of the grooms' family.

The woman leaves the bachelorette party, goes to the bachelor party, and proceeds to sit down and disrobe! For no rhyme or reason that anyone could fathom, she sat at the bachelor party in front of her husband's co-workers and friends and all the grooms' male friends and family members, topless.

The bride just found out a few months ago at our daughter's wedding. The groom got a snootful of booze and it came out.

Can you believe this? I sure couldn't! Unfortunately, the people who told me wouldn't have made it up. I really felt for this guy before - now I really feel for him! Wow...

I.Don't.Do.That.

Hubby and I went to a dinner tonight with entertainment. This was being sponsored by a company who does business with my company, so although it was required, it was something that it didn't hurt to make an appearance at.

The guy who runs this other company is rather a gregarious sort. Almost extreme.

We had some drinks, they grilled some food, and we had a nice dinner. Sat at a table with co-workers of mine (where are all the wives, guys?) and Hubby chatted with them all. He knows most of them from other things at work.

After dinner, there was a small speech, then the entertainment portion of our evening began.

Shoot me now.

The three-man band was good, don't get me wrong. They could play. They could amuse. But, DAMN! Does there have to be audience participation? Can't we just sit here and be, like, entertained?

We slipped out during intermission. Yeah, I know, party poopers.

Tire Update

6:00 a.m. Wednesday. Morning. The phone rings.

Hubby: Hello?
MIL: Well, it's flat now.
Hubby:...
MIL: I just went out to get in the car and the tire is completely flat.
Hubby: Oh.
MIL: Are you coming over to fix it?
Hubby: Well, I suppose so. Can I get up first?
MIL: I have to get to coffee with the girls
Hubby: Now?
MIL: No, not until 9:00
Hubby: So, I can get up and maybe get dressed and have my coffee before I come over?
MIL: It's flat now. I can't go anywhere. I have to get to coffee.
Hubby: ...

Me: I'll call Sindy. She knows how to bury bodies.

The Human Zoo State Fair

We went to the Iowa State Fair yesterday afternoon. If you've never been to a fair, it's quite the experience. We tend to do the swoop method, as opposed to the lolly-gag method, although, to be honest, we have done the lolly-gag in years past, so we do know how that goes.

It was "Older Iowans" day at the fair. This means small wrinkly smelly slow 60-year-olds could get in cheaper. As we parked our vehicle in the nearby neighborhood, we began the four-block walk to the fairgrounds. Entering the grounds, there were park bench after park bench lined up along the path with shriveled up raisenettes old people sitting on them. Lots of wrap-around black sunglasses, large sun hats, and white oxide nose sun block.

As we moved further into the fairgrounds, it is like coming home. All the smells and sounds are familiar. Every possible food has been fried and put on a stick. Hubby must go directly without passing GO to the beef tent where they serve roast beef, steak and hamburgers. (Normally, we don't eat for 24 hours before attending the fair to give your stomach the maximum amount of room to fill with fair food.) Then we must search out dessert. Wonder Bars! That works. It is a huge cube of icecream on a stick dipped in chocolate and nuts. Hubby and daughter work on it together as I try and figure out what I want next. I turn and look back at the line for the Wonder Bar booth. There are five women in line, not one of them under 400lbs. Yep. Just what they need. A Wonder Bar.

The fair is where you will see more fat people than you've ever seen in your life. Not just moderately heavy, but F-A-T. Now, I'm not Twiggy and never will claim to be. I could stand to lose some weight. But I'm telling you, these people are on the obese order. How they can even walk all over the fairgrounds is amazing to me! Besides the F-A-T people, there are way too many examples of inbreeding. You can tell. Trust me.

I could swear I saw this girl at the fair. She may have even been cloned, as I could have sworn I saw her more than once.

There are lots of things to do and see at the fair. For you citified people who have never attended, here are a few of the things you have missed:

• The biggest hog
• The biggest steer
• The butter cow (this is a cow sculpted out of butter)
• The Tiger Woods butter sculpture with his pet tiger butter sculpture (changes yearly)
• The biggest pumpkin
• The Honey Queen (Daughter and I felt she probably should have been the Pork Queen.. )
• The story of corn
• The hog-calling contest
• The husband-calling contest
• The rolling-pin throwing contest
• The horse/hog/beef/sheep/chicken/small animal barns
• The big slide
• The Flea Market
• Snakes Alive!
• The quilts and sewing and crafts and needlework displays
• The farm equipment
• The livestock equipment (automatic waterer, anyone?)
• The Hall of Flame (as pleasant as it sounds - run by the Iowa Highway Patrol - do YOU wear your seatbelt? Hmmm?)
• The Varied Industries building - (think infommercial on crack)
• The Cultural Center - photos, paintings, other art - my favorite place of all
• Funnel cakes, chicken on a stick, chinese food, corn dogs, watermelon in a cup, homemade potato chips, pork chops on a stick, gyros, deep-fried twinkies, grilled turkey legs, fresh lemonade, sweet potato fries, giant cinnamon rolls, salt-water taffy, cotton candy, real ice cream, apple slices, the beer tent
• The tractor pull
• The live concerts that are free throughout the fair
• The live concerts that are not free at the Grandstand almost every night
• The Bill Riley talent sprouts contest
• The Blue Grass rides run by people from "Carnivale"

These are just a few of the things that are highlights of the fair. As we left the fairgrounds, we passed bus after bus after bus lined up to take the senior citizens back to where they came from - in time for dinner at The Home, most likely. As I say, the people by far are the best. I just wish I'd remembered my camera!

The Other Side

I know a lot of women who have been treated badly by a spouse or boyfriend, myself included. I’ve often said, “You can’t truly know what is going on in a relationship unless you are one of the people involved.” I generally stick by that rule. In the interest of fairness, today I am presenting The Other Side.

Brad (name has been changed to protect the innocent) started working three days after I did. For at least two weeks I thought his name was something else because his last name is like another first name, and he speaks so quietly I thought his last name was his first name. He’s a good looking younger man who is fresh off the farm. Gullibility should not be punished.

I don’t know how they met, but a couple of years after he’d been working here, he met a woman. A big city woman. She was drop-dead gorgeous. She was a working woman, a sophisticated woman. A nice woman. So we all thought.

They dated for a year. They seemed to get along great! She would come into the office and joke with the other guys, and they had married young couples they would hang around with and go out with that were stable and good influences. All seemed right with the world. He proposed. She accepted.

She moved out of the big city and changed jobs to be closer.

Her mother was 3x divorced and didn’t have a lot of money, so the youngsters saved and scrimped and basically paid for the wedding themselves. It was beautiful and she was beautiful and he was so handsome and the angels smiled.

The year was going by in a whirlwind. They came to the office Christmas party at our house. They played pool, drank, ate and laughed. Whenever I saw them, they were smiling and hugging and touching and kissing. They’d been married 10 months.*

In December they bought a little house in the country and began thinking of fixing it up. In February they celebrated their anniversary with laughter and travel – she and their best friends ‘kidnapped’ him from work and drove to Kansas City for the weekend. Reports were that fun was had by all.

By April she was complaining. They didn’t have enough money. He was working two jobs. She was working one. She got a little dog that he went home every noon to let out. The guys at work teased him. I thought it was sweet. He hated the dog – then grew to like it a lot.

By May she was hard to live with. He was sleeping on the couch more than he was in the bed.

By June she decided she wanted a trial separation. She left to stay with a girlfriend.

Last weekend she moved out for good. He’s turned in his notice at work. They’re selling the house. He’s moving back home to the farm. She’s moved back to the big city. She took the dog, the furniture, and everything else that wasn’t nailed down. He just watched her go.

I’ve watched this guy go from a quiet, shy, happy kid (shut up…he’s 20-years my junior, so, yes, he’s a kid) to a guy who thought he was on top of the world with the girl of his dreams, back to the quiet, shy, unhappy guy of today. He just couldn’t give her what she wanted. She thought she was getting some guy to take care of her, and found out she had champagne taste on a beer budget. She’d been raised on her momma’s knee that she was a princess and by golly, should be treated like one – at least financially. She drove him into debt, then ran off and left him holding the bag along with his heart.

I know there are a lot of you women out there who have been left holding that bag by a man. I just want to remind you….there sometimes is another side.

*I found out later this spring that she ended up pissing off several of my co-workers that night while I was upstairs setting out food. After that night, they didn’t have much time for her. They never told Brad, so it wasn’t influencing him and they didn’t want him to feel badly that they didn’t like her anymore, but I just wonder if she was already plotting her escape…

Throw Her It Out

We came out of the movie last night and Hubby found two calls on his phone from his mother (MIL). He calls her back.

MIL: The light came on on my dash that says my tire pressure is low
Hubby: Uh-huh
MIL: I can't find out what the tire pressure should be.
Hubby: It should be inside the door jam of the driver's side door
MIL: The light came on on the dash
Hubby: Look inside the door
MIL: I looked in the manual and I couldn't find anywhere that it told me what the pressure should be
Hubby: Those manuals just tell you not to drive with your ass sticking out the window. They don't tell you anything.
MIL: The light came on
Hubby: Look inside the door
MIL: Well, the light came on and I looked in the manual but it didn't tell me anything
Hubby: When you get a new car, you should pull the manual out of the glove compartment and take it across the showroom floor and throw it away the first thing
MIL: ...
Hubby: I'll look at it in the morning
MIL: The light came on, you know, and I just didn't know...
Hubby:...

Daughter and I sitting next to him in the truck: So, the light came on, huh?

Do you see why we get frustrated?

A Day Later

It's a day later and Cleo is finally settling in a bit. We had a slight disagreement on who was going to be sleeping on the bed last night, but our oldest cat, Jammie, won the argument. No fur flew, just a few low growls and Cleo decided her growling wasn't as tough or that Jammie really meant it... whatever the case, Cleo got off the bed.

Hubby came home for lunch yesterday and when I got home a bit later, Cleo was curled up on his lap. Daughter and I went to lunch with a friend and did our shopping, then came home and Hubby was still in the chair (I think he had left and come home again) and Cleo was right back up on his lap. She knows who said to let her in the house!

She's not trying to get out as much, either.

Last night we went to "The Island". It reminded me so much of the old classic "Logan's Run", that was always one of my favorites. Mix in a little "Mad Max" and some "Blade Runner" and you've got this movie. It was good, but just seemed a little predictable. I bet they spent some money on those crash scenes! Wow!

This afternoon we're going to the Iowa State Fair. If you've never experienced a fair, it's a unique experience. Really.

Oh, Cleo!

Cleo is going to be a problem.

We had her de-clawed last week so she could go from outside cat to inside cat. We boarded her at the vet while we were gone because they need some special things the first few days and we weren't going to be there. We picked her up yesterday and brought her home. I took her to the room with the kitty litter boxes (clean) and the kitty food bowls (full) and left her to find her way upstairs.

A couple of hours later she came up. Meowing. She started looking out the windows. Meowing. I waited awhile and took her back down to once more remind her where the litter and food was.

She came back up a short time later. Meowing.

It got dark.

I went into my bedroom to watch TV.

Daughter let her dog out to do it's before bed business.

Knocking on the sliding glass door in my bedroom.

Daughter is standing there holding Cleo. Cleo escaped. She had to chase Cleo around the outside of the house to catch her. Now she gives me Cleo. Cleo is meowing.

Hubby comes to bed and we shut Cleo out of the bedroom (we don't need a catfight in the middle of our bed - it's happened before).

Morning. Hubby is in the livingroom drinking his coffee. Cleo is meowing.

Hubby: I think maybe we made a mistake.
Hubby: I think maybe Cleo wants to be an outside cat.
Me: She meowed when she was outside and tried to get inside!
Hubby: Oh. Yeah.

Hopefully, Cleo will quiet down and decide inside is better than outside... or it's going to some fun. (read sarcasm)

Getting to Know You ...or...Another Meme

Sent to me by a good friend:

1. What is your full name? can't do that here
2. What color pants are you wearing? Blue jeans
3. What are you listening to right now? The hum of my computer
4. What was the last thing you ate? Green seedless grapes
5. Do you wish on stars? yes
6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Red or purple
7. How is the weather right now? Sun is shining and it is in the 60’s
8. Last person you spoke to on the phone? The veterinarian’s office assistant
9. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Absolutely!
10. Are you married/significant other? Yes – 25+ years!
11. Favorite drink? Pepsi
12. Favorite sport? To play? I don’t do sports.
13. Hair color? Auburn
14. Do you wear contacts? Sometimes.
15. Do you have any siblings? How many? Nope.
16. Favorite month? February
17. Favorite food? Tomatoes, green beans and peas right out of the garden and sweet corn out of the field
18. What was the last movie you saw? Million Dollar Baby.
19. Favorite day of the year? Thanksgiving.
20. What do you do to vent anger? Blog
21. What were your favorite toys as a child? Roller skates, ice skates, bicycle and my dog (yeah, I know, not “technically” a toy, but hey! I played with my beagle more than anything!)
22. Summer or winter? Winter. LOTS of snow! So much you are snowed in!
23. Hugs or kisses? Hugs (unless we’re talking candy, then Kisses)
24. Chocolate or vanilla? Chocolate – definitely!
25. When was the last time you cried? A couple of weeks ago when one of my grandcritters died.
26. What is under your bed? Controllers for the electric blanket
27. Friend you have had the longest. Janelle
28. What did you do last night? Celebrated my hubby’s birthday
29. What are you scared of? Furry spiders. People. (I’m rather anti-social).
30. Plain, buttered or salted popcorn? Butter and salt
31. Favorite car? The Honda hatchback I used to have
32. Favorite flower? Gaura
33. How many keys on your key ring? Which key ring?
34. How many years at your current job? 5
35. Favorite day of the week? Saturday
36. What did you do on your last birthday? We had my office Christmas party at our new house.
37. How many states have you lived in? Just one - Iowa
38. Where do you most want to visit? Ireland
39. Do you have any animals? Five cats, three dogs.
40. Do you have any children? Two girls, two boys, one grandson, two son-in-laws, one almost-daughter-in-law and eight grand-critters
41. Money or happiness? Happiness!
42. If you could kiss somebody other than your spouse, just once, who would it be? I really don’t want to kiss anyone else!

Part II
1. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR KITCHEN PLATES? Hot red
2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING? Seven Types of Ambiguity by Elliot Perlman
3. WHAT'S ON YOUR MOUSE PAD? Don’t use one.
4. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE BOARD GAME? Adult Trivial pursuit
5. FAVORITE MAGAZINE? Wired
6. LEAST FAVORITE SMELL? POOP
7. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE UP IN THE MORNING? Do I HAVE to get up?
8. LEAST FAVORITE COLOR? Yellow
9. HOW MANY RINGS BEFORE YOU ANSWER THE PHONE? After working at a large university admissions office as first on phone for the whole university, I now HATE the phone. I screen whenever possible!
10. FUTURE CHILD'S NAME: All done.
11. WHAT IS MOST IMPORTANT IN YOUR LIFE? My family and critters and friends (not necessarily in that order… lol)
12. FAVORITE SOUND? My family’s laughter when they’re all together
13. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL? Does Hubby count? I sleep with LIVE animals…
14. STORMS, COOL OR SCARY? Scary but not dangerous.
15. WHAT TYPE WAS YOUR FIRST CAR? Opal GT piece-of-shit but I loved it!
16. IF YOU COULD MEET ONE PERSON DEAD OR ALIVE WHO WOULD IT BE? I’d love to meet my mother (dead).
17. WHAT IS YOUR BIRTHDAY? What or when? ;) December – I’m a Sagittarious
18. IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY JOB WHAT WOULD IT BE? Independently wealthy would work! Oh… I have to work? Well, I’d like to be a writer. One who gets paid for it.
19. IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY COLOR HAIR, WHAT WOULD IT BE? My daughter’s shade of auburn
20. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN LOVE? YESYESYES!
21. IS THE GLASS HALF FULL OR HALF EMPTY? Half full...unless it's half empty
22. WHAT ARE YOUR FAVORITE MOVIES? Too many to mention.
23. DO YOU TYPE WITH YOUR FINGERS ON THE RIGHT KEY? Yes
24. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE NUMBER? Any of them with a $ sign in front.
25. SAY ONE NICE THING ABOUT THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU! Susan (a non-blogger) – you are a deep thinker and a very creative person with more energy than normal people should have. You are also wise beyond your years with all your life experience. Guess that’s more than one thing, huh? Oh, well…
26. FAVORITE CD: Rob Thomas “Something to Be” (at the moment)
27. HAMBURGERS OR HOTDOG? Hamburgers
28. THE BEST PLACE YOU HAVE EVER BEEN? Home
29. WHAT SCREEN SAVER IS ON YOUR COMPUTER RIGHT NOW? None.
30. CATS OR DOGS? DUH! Both – and lots of ‘em!
31. WHITE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS OR MULTICOLORED? Little white and multicolored big (old-fashioned ones)

Now, who do I want to bug with this.... Mwwaaaaa haaaaa haaaa....
I tag: madman, kenna, styro

Monday with Daughter

I worked Monday morning, then daughter and I hopped in her vehicle and headed to the large pet supply company that she works for. The one nearest to me is about 20 miles away. Hubby calls.

Hubby: Where are you?
Me: On our way to CritterLand
Hubby: Imagine that.

It's a disease. I haven't resorted to foo-fie clothing yet (although, when it's really really cold I have been known to slip on a sweatshirt or sweater to help with the chill). But I'm a sucker for doggy treats and toys.

Frieda has been diagnosed by daughter as "ball obsessed". She loves her little yellow tennis ball more than any treat of any flavor. The minute you come out of the house she starts looking for you to throw it. She runs and gets it, then may bring it back for you to throw again (and again and again) or sometimes she just plays with herself. She'll get on a slope in the yard and drop it and push it with her paw, watching it roll down the hill and runs to get it herself. Occasionally she brings it up on the porch and gets it near the edge, then gives it a little push to tip it off the porch, running around the other side to retrieve it. She'll go on the concrete pad for the garage drive and drop it, shoving it with her paw or nose to make it roll, then bouncing around it and picking it up and running with it as though you've just thrown it for her.

Sometimes Frank decides he wants the ball. He gets up next to her and just butts into her until she drops it, then he grabs it and runs, never dropping it. His mouth is big enough he just holds it inside and she can't get it! He'll lay down and just hold it. I have to make him come to me and tempt him with a treat until he drops it so Frieda can have it again. We've tried giving him his own ball, but he doesn't want his own - he wants hers. (Just like human kids...)

Frieda is fussy about her ball, too. I mistakenly got some once that were peanut butter flavored. They smelled nothing like pb to me! Ugh. She didn't seem to like them. She wasn't crazy about the mint ones, either, but she seemed to at least tolerate those. The plain ones are her favorite. Among her favorites, she seems to have favorites. If she's playing with one and loses it (she's dropped them off the back deck into the bank of the creek before) then she doesn't want a replacement. She wants THAT one. You know, the one that is at the bottom of the ravine! She'll pace back and forth and make an attempt to go down the bank, which scares the beejezus out of me. I think she could do it, it isn't that steep, it just isn't something want her to be doing. It is pretty rough going and sometimes that bottom part can be flooded. So, more often than not, when she won't go for the substitute some human goes after it for her. (Can you say spoiled?)

Ironically, it doesn't matter to her that it is that particular one, but more that it is the one she starts out with when she goes out to play. You can alternate the ones she takes out when she goes, it is just she wants to keep the same one the whole time she's out.

Occasionally she loses it in the taller grass and can't find it when it's time to go inside. If you can stop making her look for it and actually get her in the house, don't be surprise if she'll go hunting for it the next time she goes out, even hours later. More often than not, she'll find it. She's got a unique hunting style in that she'll make ever collapsing circles looking, then move to another area and do the same thing. It's very odd to watch.

At any rate, that was the excitement for the day. Some running and errands and back to the house for Hubby's birthday supper. It's sure fun to have her home! We're going to take a friend of mine and go to the larger near-by town for lunch and a spot of specific shopping (not random shopping - remember, I hate that!). Will be fun to tell my friend about our camping adventures. She's been around MIL enough to be able to appreciate the pain.

Note to My Hubby

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart. You may never read this blog - hell, you may never ever find out it exists. I just want to acknowledge you are the light of my life and the guy who saved me. I'll never forget that. You keep me going from day to day and year to year, and with each year you get more. More loving. More giving. More thoughtful.

Sending you loving thoughts forever.

Giving It All You've Got

Remarkably, a good time was had by all. Dinner was proceeded by large quantities of alcohol and laughter. We had a housefull - all the kids and their spouses or prospective spouses or significant others and grandkid, grandcritters, MIL, my parents... It was fun. There was enough of our kids' chemistry to dilute the MIL and parents.

I think I'll go lay down now. The RV was nice, but my bed is looking awfully comfy.

Congrats, son... you've done it. I'm proud of you. What the hell, I'm proud of all of you kids. You're a great bunch, if I do say so myself!

Hell on Wheels Part III

It's almost over. If it weren't, I'd kill her and bury her in the woods.

Hubby keeps whispering it in my ear.

He teases his mother about her fidgeting and fussing. He tries to make her sit down and settle - like a little kid, she's bouncing off the walls. She laughs, and settles for a minute or two, then she's up and at it again. If he gets on her too much, she pouts and gets mad. That's not good either. The woman can carry a grudge.

We make camp and fix some food. The weather is actually pretty nice today. The kids won't be back for awhile. We watch a movie and I finish my third book.

Race time, finally. They all leave and I get some peace and quiet.

He WON!! Again!!! Whoo hoo! I'm so excited for him. He's so happy. After such a crummy week, he needed that.

Hubby and MIL come back to the camper and Hubby says he thinks the kids are going to stop by - they're going on home. I sit outside with them. It's really cool out and a breeze, so the bugs aren't biting. Kids don't stop and we go to bed. Talked to them the next day and they said they would have, but MIL was there and they didn't think they could take her much longer. Join the club.

Sunday. Up early, breakfast done, we go home. I'm anxious to see my critters and Hubby is anxious to get rid of you-know-who.

Home, and we unpack the RV and I start the mounds of laundry I have to do and Hubby takes MIL home. I give a big sigh of relief. Then I realize... Today is the graduation dinner for Eldest Son. She'll be baaaaack... crap.

Hubby comes home ready to stomp something to bits. He took her home, dropped her off at the house and figured he was done with her for awhile. He goes to the shop, starts emptying the cooler, and... wait for it... wait for it... she comes down to the shop! YES! She starts sweeping...picking up...fidgeting... He left before he killed her.

Hell on Wheels Part II

The fun continues.

Friday. This is the big race night. It's cloudy and cool. No one knows for sure if there will be a race, or how it will work as far as qualifying races. People are hungover. Big-time.

MIL is picking up sticks on the campground on her way to the bathrooms. She's fussing. She's fidgiting. She's talking non-stop. I'm losing my mind.

Mid-afternoon they decide they will have the race. They'll have qualifying, then they'll run the normal Friday night program, then they'll have the big race. Bad news. Because of the rain-out, the sponsor is only going to pay 2/3 of the purses. Now the $10,000 to win has gone to $6,666.66. YS should have gotten $560 just to finish the race in any position, now that is cut, too. People are grumpy and grumbling. This isn not turning out to be a happy thing.

Everyone figures it could be a very late night. Hubby wants to take a nap. I'm smart. I go to the back bedroom and lay down and close the door. He's a glutton for punishment. He lays on the couch to sleep. He tells me later he can hear his mom fussing. She is opening cupboards and closing them and shuffling things around. He feels her pulling something out from under his head as he is sleeping. WTF? She leaves the RV. BANG! She can't close the door quietly. Oh, forget that... BANG! BANG! It wasn't closed.

I had a good nap.

The races went well, considering. YS got 7th. He wasn't that happy because he'd hoped to do better. Because of the purses being cut, he only ended up getting $100 dollars more than he was supposed to get for just finishing the race originally. Grrrr... Oh, did I mention MIL picking up trash on the track after the race? Hubby was fit to be tied.

Saturday. We debate what we're doing. YS takes car and goes home to do some work on it before his normal race tonight. He's the track points leader and wants to keep that lead.

We go into town to pick up a couple of things and swing by a friends' shop. Hubby gets out to talk to the guy. I'm in the front seat of the pickup, MIL in the backseat. She has a newspaper.

MIL: Would you like to see the newspaper?
Me: No, thank you - I'm fine.
MIL: (showing me the paper) There is a garden section...
Me: That's okay, I may look at it later
MIL: (leaning into the front again to show me another page) See?
Me: Uh-huh. Maybe later.
MIL: Hmmm... man killed in boating accident on lake...

WTF???? She's now reading the paper to me. Kill me now.

We decide to go camp at the track where YS races every Saturday night. As long as we have the RV out and about and I've got lots of supplies, we'll just extend the trip. Except for MIL, it's been fun.

Hell on Wheels Part I

Think: nails on a blackboard
Think: water dripping in the sink all night long
Think: whiney little kids
Think: MIL

You now have some idea what my week has been like. I will attempt to hit the high points.

Tuesday. We arrive at the racetrack 30 minutes before the sky opens up and we get 4" of rain. We, thank goodness, had gotten the RV set up and were safely inside watching it pour. Drinking. Alcohol. Mass quantities.

Wednesday. I realize I've grabbed my daughter's chocolate-flavored coffee instead of the 100% columbian which is the only thing Hubby will drink. I, not being a coffee drinker, do not suffer. Hubby and MIL go to town to get coffee and the newspaper - with promises of bringing me some breakfast.

They come back sooner than expected and talk me into going 30 miles to the next town for some Perkins breakfast. That turned out to be an experience. We had a magician for a waiter. An honest-to-god magician. He did tricks at the table. He was good. Made for a very interesting breakfast.

Back to the RV, we try to set up things to sit outside. It goes well until the bugs start biting me alive. I sit in the RV with the windows open and talk to the others through the screen. It's fine.

YS and crew show up about noon and get the car set up to go race. This is a qualifying race to get into the 'big' race - on Friday night. Some friends of his camp around us. He brings a couple of them in to look at the RV. They leave.

MIL: Shall we go ask to see their camper?
Me: Go ahead if you want, but I don't need to see it.
MIL: Do you want to go check out the showers?
Me: Go ahead if you want, but I'm okay.
MIL: Are you trying to read your book?
Me:...

MIL is driving us crazy. She has attention deficiet. We're positive. She fidgets. She picks at stuff. She constantly is picking. Picking up sticks in the camping area. Sweeping the 'fake' grass mat we put down. Sweeping the RV. She. Never. Sits. Still. Not only that. She. Never. Shuts. Up. Gibberish. Hubby said it once - she takes more words to say something than anyone he ever heard.

They go to the race. I breathe a sigh of relief and settle down with my book.

YS qualifies! He comes in 5th out of 73 cars. Yippee!

Hubby comes in late that night fuming. He's been outside the RV trying to talk to YS and the others and MIL keeps a.) standing between him and YS, blocking the eyeline and b.) interrupting for stupid things (should we put these chairs under the RV so they don't get wet?... should we put the tarp up?... should we put more ice in the cooler?) Finally he snapped at her and she went into the RV, pouting. Five minutes later she's back. (I can't get this table down to make up the bed...)

If she's alive by the time we go home, it will be a miracle.

Thursday. It's a parts run. Hubby and I have to go back home to get some parts for the race car and pick up a few groceries (100% columbian). We were evil. Didn't ask MIL to go with. It was a peaceful few hours.

Got back to the track and found it had been raining off and on again, then proceeded to pour after we got back. No races tonight. It was supposed to be a second night of qualifying. YS wouldn't have had to race anyway, but now they are all sitting around under the awning being bored to death. The alcohol isn't even helping.

Some of the racers and crews take off to go to a bar - at 2:30 in the afternoon. (We find out later they didn't come home until 2:30 in the morning!) Hubby mentioned going in the RV to take a nap. I'm in the RV, dozing over my book. He comes in, lays on the couch, and YS comes in. Sits down, leans back - getting nap comfortable. Then YS's girlfriend comes in - I may as well call her DIL2B, as they keep talking marriage. She brings the Huskie pup in with her. A nice pup, but large and one who decided it would be a good idea to jump on Hubby's tummy... OOOF. Not good. Finally, MIL comes in. Talking. Again. Still. Let's put it this way, Hubby didn't get a nap.

We cook some food and watch a movie and go to bed.

I Love You, But Keep Your Hands to Yourself

Hubby and I love each other. A lot. Really. We just have a hard time sleeping together. He keeps whining that he sees "twin beds" in our future, but that's not going to happen. Ever. I promise.

However, something's gonna give.

Once upon a time we had a queen-sized mattress. I learned I needed to lay with my back to Hubby or the law of averages would dictate that eventually I was going to have a black eye or broken nose from his elbow swinging generously in my direction during the night. I got a few rude awakenings in the nighttime with an elbow to the back of the head, but no black eyes.

In the old house we graduated to a queen-size waterbed. It was a 'no wave' thing, so wasn't like we were sloshing and swooshing all over. However, after many years it got to the point it had a big peak in the middle and would roll both of us to our prospective sides. We got used to that. (It kept me away from the dreaded elboy, too!)

Now, in the new house we have a king-size bed. We did this mostly because we have critters that make laps through during the night and occasionally curl up behind our knees and have been known to make themselves "bed hogs". We wanted to give the humans a tad more room. Ironically, after all those years of being rolled to the edge of the bed, we both migrate to the very edges on our own sides! I want to be near my nightstand and my light so I can read, and Hubby... I don't know what his excuse is, but it just works out that way. We even tried changing sides of the bed to see if that made a difference. It didn't.

Don't ask me what wild hair got up his ...whatever...last night, but he decided to sleep in the middle of the bed. Fine. Until about 2 a.m. When his hand flopped in my face. Uh huh. WHAP! By the time the night was over, I'd gotten smacked (okay, whapped sounds less violent) three more times! You ask why I didn't roll over? Because I've gotten used to having space between us now and I usually sleep facing him.

We're going in the RV. It's a queen-sized mattress... but an RV-sized queen. Anybody got a hockey mask they want to loan out?

Another Memory...Yeah, He's Mine

In thinking about ES's graduation, I had some flashbacks. I mentioned some earlier, but one of my favorites is a story of it's own.

My ex-in-laws are rather religious. That's an understatement. They are very active in their church and hold positions of responsibility. Years ago, when ES and Eldest Daughter were 5 and 7, respectively, they were visiting their grandparents for a big family dinner. The ex-sisters-in-laws were there (2) as well as the ex-brother-in-law and the ex-husband. All with their spouses, kids and/or significant others.

My childen had been in the basement playing. When they were called up for dinner, ES went up immediately. Time went by and ED didn't come up. She was called several times and didn't answer, leading to people searching the other rooms of the house to see if she'd come upstairs and just hadn't heard them. Approximately ten minutes went by, with the lovely dinner feast cooling on the table and people sitting around looking at each other waiting for ED to appear.

Finally, she came upstairs.

ES looked at her and said, "Where in the hell have YOU been?"

Yep. My son. When the ex told me, I was soooo proud.

Another One!

According to Em, there is another graduate in the family! Bug! Grandma can't wait to see you next week and see all your progress. Now, if you could just teach some manners to your cousins... (aunt and uncle?)... hmmm...

Huh?

Me: I dreamed all night about stocking the RV
Hubby: You're turning into your mother
Me:...

Did You Hear That Blood-Curdling Scream Coming From Iowa?

She's.Going.With.Us.

MIL.The Queen.

Going.Camping.With.Us.

Four.Days.

(Insert scream here. Again.)

There went my peaceful 'mini-vacation'. No phone, no work. I was going to take my video taped shows I'm behind on watching (I'm up to about April). My 'puter, of course - not that I'll have i-net, but I can at least keep track of things to post later. My cross-stitch and crocheting. My stack of books. One of my pups is going - the little one, Frieda. I'd planned on lots of sleeping and drinking (I'm not driving anywhere and I don't have to go to work the next day...) and just vegging. Now? Now I have a hyperactive 5'3" 75-year-old woman who talks all the time wanting to share my space. She's already talking about taking the pickup and going to nearby towns. I.Don't.Want.To.

Fuck. I'm sorry, but that's just the way I feel. FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I know she's lonely. I know she likes going to the races - she goes with Hubby every Saturday night now (drives him crazy!). BUT - she is not one to 'go with the flow'. She is a control freak and she gets it in her head the way she thinks things should go or what we should do and it's almost impossible to change her mind. She is not going to calmly sit by and watch me do nothing. She thinks this is a great opportunity for us to go do things during the day while the guys are working on the car. I don't WANT TO! How do I say, "Leave me alone" without coming off like an anti-social bitch? I mean, that's what I am, but I usually just avoid her instead of coming out and laying it on the line. Poor Hubby is caught in the cross-hairs. Even The Princess laid a guilt trip on him about taking her with. He can't win.

I even went so far as to go shopping with her and The Princess yesterday. Keep in mind that I am not a mindless shopper. I don't go shopping for the thrill of shopping. If I have to shop, I usually know exactly what I want and it's just a matter of going into the store and getting it, or at the very least maybe having to hit a few stores before I find what I'm looking for. I do NOT like "browsing" or just wandering aimlessly through the malls - especially when I'm one of those people who is thrilled to find something on sale for $10-20 and these people were looking in the $100 range. Not even neat stuff...! Some of it was just plain hideous.

Oh, God, I am sooooo not looking forward to this trip now. Maybe I'll come down with Ebola or something.

On the flip side, I can't because I've heard my son is going around telling everyone how tickled he is that BOTH his parents are going. In other words, he's really thrilled I'm going. Don't want to let him down. (sigh)

Maybe I can teach Frieda to bite before then.

Oops - Give Me a FOUR

Duh. He's won four in a row.

Give Me A THREE!

He won again! Third race in a row! WHOOO HOOO! Next week we're going out-of-town so he can race in a special race with a $10,000 pot. Now, wouldn't it be nice if he could win THAT one??

I'll keep you updated...

Eldest Son

I am so proud of you. You have finally done it. You have graduated from college. It took nine hard years of work, but you perservered. You had several offers over the years to quit school and go right into the work force, but you believed it was important to finish what you started. Now you can say you did.

I remember when you were born you were such a big baby, compared to your older sister. She was a premie, and by the time you were born she wasn't much bigger than you were. I think it made you closer than just the two years. Her development was slower to catch up and there were lots of times you guys were doing things at the same time.

You were always bugging her, too. But she'd get even. I remember you would throw things at her from your crib to her bed as you shared a room. She'd get tired of it, get up , and go take away your bottle. When you were older and in a bed, too, you would get up in her bed and sit on her head! We thought it was because her bed was next to a window and you were trying to look out, but when we changed your beds, you still did it!

You were so softhearted. Even as a little boy your feelings were hurt easily. Once or twice you threatened to run away and I sat up all night talking to you, then guarding the door so you wouldn't leave on a snowy night. Once at school when you were only in about 2nd grade, a couple of your classmates found a bird's nest on the playground and they knocked it down and killed the babies. You were trying to stop them and crushed when you weren't able to. That was the day you ran away from school - trying to get home - five miles across cornfields. The teacher caught up with you before you'd gotten too far, but you scared the beejesus out of everyone that day.

You were the first in the family to be pegged 'exceptional' in an intellegence way and asked to participate in the Talented and Gifted program. You never looked at it as an honor, but thought it was unfair to all the other kids that couldn't do some of the extra and cool things you did. When your younger sister was also in it, you two got together and decided that it wasn't really what you wanted, so you dropped it - but not before she had the trauma of public speaking where she froze up with stage fright we thought she'd never outgrow. (To our amazement, she later went on to cheerleading, speech contest and acting!)

You were quite the little guy - hard to argue with. When I had to go in and speak with the teacher in 5th grade because you weren't doing your homework, your reply was "I don't know why I have to do homework - I get A's on the tests, so the teacher knows I can do the work!" How do you argue with that?

You grew up with a step-dad, my husband, but we always tried to keep you connected to your biological dad. Somewhere along the way he took a step back and I don't know if I'll ever forgive him for it. You and your sister were occasionally called by your grandmother to go to family events, but more often than not she didn't even call you - just your sister. It was as though they passed you right over. I never understood that. You never said anything, but I know it cut you to the bone. During one of our conversations after you grew up you said "I always looked at step-dad as my dad" - but I respect the fact that you still try and reach out to your bio dad, even when he's not man enough to reach out to you. Someday you'll make a great father.

We didn't get along very well when you were in high school. I know you were sneaking out of the house, smoking, drinking, doing drugs. We tried to get in your face, but it didn't help. You counted the days until you could graduate and move out. Then you did and I felt a deep loss. I felt I'd let you down in the same way my parents had let me down. I didn't feel I was a very good mom. You had to live through my years of depression and anger and I know they had to touch you and your brother and sisters in their own ways, but I felt I really let you all down.

A coupld of years later we had a reconnection. Why, I don't know. I'd like to think I'd changed enough that the door was opened again. One time we were going somewhere and you played a song for me about a girl who has moved away from her parents and everytime her mom calls she says, "I'm fine...I'm FINE...I'M FINE!" but she's not. You told me that was how you felt after you moved out. You knew you'd made a mistake and you missed us, but you were too proud to admit it and come home. You said you realized we weren't as dumb as you thought we were. (Isn't that a mantra for a lot of kids?) I cried later that night thinking about how alone you must have felt and I hope you never have to feel that again.

I've seen you grow and mature. I've had more poeple come up to me and tell me what a nice young man you are. I've had people who know you from working with you - or, sometimes just know of you by your reputation. You have a good reputation.

Things have been hard. You've known heartbreak - living with your high-school sweetheart for years, then realizing it wasn't going to work out. You jokingly call it "the divorce", but you lost a lot of things in that separation - not only furniture, but chunks of soul. You've protected your heart ever since, but now I see a glimmer of maybe a softening again with your new girlfriend. She's really sweet - a genuinely nice person. Something you deserve.

I congratulate you on your graduation, son. I look forward with you to the new chapter of your life unfolding. One you've waited a long time for. I can't believe this is that little doe-eyed, dirty-blonde haired kid that could melt me with his smile. Aw, hell... you still melt me with your smile. I love you, honey.

Vroom Vroom

Yep, for those of you keeping score - it's race night again! Keep your fingers crossed!

I Gotta Postcard!

HEY! I got a postcard from Kenna! YIPPEE!

Flutterbies!

You should see my garden! There are thousands of butterflies! A cloud of them - everywhere! Wow... Now, if they'd just hold still so I could get their picture...

Now Where Did I Put The White Flag?

I surrender. I just can't find the flag. I cleaned the house within an inch of its' life. I made homemade salad dressing. I fixed strawberries and angelfood cake. We cooked steaks and baked potatoes. We had drinks on the deck and wine with dinner. I'm done.

My parents came after lunch and we cleaned all their stuff out of the RV that they wanted and packed it up. They've left a lot of stuff, not all of it stuff we want, but I'm sure we can use some of it. It's still amazing that they've given it to us.

Later in the afternoon my husbands' family came.

Exhibit A) Remember the vacuum. 'nuf said.
Exhbit B) Hubby was cooking steaks. A whole grill full of steaks. Gas grill says the tank is full. It lied. Must finish the steaks under the broiler in the oven
Exhibit C) The Boys actually weren't bad. I wasn't prepared for that. The little one (10?) has been on ADHD medication. He was very polite and calm, asked to help set the table... I was shocked. Made me feel bad. For about a nano-second.
Exhibit D) I said we had alcohol. Quite a bit of it. Most of the people having it probably shouldn't have, and the ones that didn't have much should have had more. Lots more.
Exhibit E) Where my father tells my husbands' sister (The Princess) that she doesn't look like anyone else in the family - except her butt looks just like my husbands'. What's with that, Dad?
Exhibit F) Where my SIL (not The Princess) comes late and takes over the entire conversation to tell us about all the people at work and what just went on at the big retirement party she'd come from. Excuse me? I don't care. I don't know these people. I will never have an occasion to meet these people and if I do, I really don't want to know that much about them. It frightens me to know what this woman must tell other people about us. We tell her as little as possible. Always.
Exibit G) Where my father makes the comment at some point during dinner that "Sue (not my family's name for me, but I'm not putting that out here) is just like me - we don't live in the past. We let the past go and live for the future." WTF? First, I don't know where that comes from, but I've been trying for years to get a grasp on where I've come from and how it effects me. I pretty much dwell in the past in a lot of ways. Where he came up with that one, I'll never know.

After the BIL and family leaves, and my parents leave, then we have to carry on polite conversation for another three hours with MIL (the Queen) and The Princess. I'm sorry, but I'm just not a people-person. I'll feed you, I'll take to you for awhile, but then please leave. I'm tired. I have dishes to do. I have a house to pick up. I'd like to go to bed with a good book and forget I had to have this touchy-feeley dinner tonight. God, am I anti-social tired.

Until the next one...

Dear Vacuum Cleaner

You suck. No, actually you don't suck. Which sucks. Your timing couldn't be worse. Don't you realize I am having 10 people for dinner tonight? Don't you know some of you haven't seen the house since it was built and will want to tour? Don't you know that freshly vacuumed carpets are one of the nice things that make people feel you aren't a slob - especially when you have four cats and two dogs in the house? What do you want from me? Why are you working for 3 minutes, then blowing the house fuse? WTF? Answer me, you damn thing!!! You SUCK!

Hello, Oscar!

I have a new grandcritter! YS (youngest son) has adopted a new kitty. I questioned the fact that if he were getting a new kitty why he didn't take Cleo, but he and his girlfriend had gone looking for a ferret and came home with Oscar. Huh.

Oscar is about 12 weeks old and is a yellow short-haired tiger-stripe male. He came to visit today - he's really cute. I took a picture, but haven't downloaded yet. I'll be sharing sometime soon...

Sonofabitch

The neighbor that likes to go out and shoot skeet off his back porch is at it again. It isn't even so much that he's making noise, but that he's aiming toward my house. Yes there is timber in-between, but it is timber I have been known to walk in and that there are wild critters in that I really don't want to scare off. He has space to the other side of his house he could shoot where it would be pointed at no one, but he chooses not to aim that direction.

He's such an asshat.

Ta Da!

May I please introduce my daughter, Em... and her new blog. Go see her and tell her Mom said "hi"...

Kill Me Now Pt 2

They are all coming. I'll be taking Sizzle's advice. Alcohol will flow freely...before the guests arrive!

DAMN DAMN DAMN DAMN

Yeah. It's Like That.

I was doing a little "housecleaning" around this site and I lost a bunch of my links. If you're one of 'em, I'm sorry. Please get in touch and I'll put you back - or I'll put back ones as I figure it out. Boy, do I feel dumb. Just when I think I'm kinda getting the hang of this stuff... (rolling eyes)

Pack Your Bags!

Did I mention my parents are giving us their RV? I'm stunned. They bought this 35' RV in 1987 for boatloads of money. It's a nice RV and they've taken good care of it. When they were building their new house in Arkansas, they lived in it for six months. When their house burned down, it was the only thing besides the van that they were able to save. It's been sitting down at a neighbors' house since the fire last January.

On Sunday, Hubby and YS (youngest son) went to retrieve it. They took lots and lots of tools (they're farmer/mechanics - by God they have tools!). My parents were pretty sure it was going to need some TLC before it would even be able to be driven home.

On the day before they left, Hubby called them to see about logistics (i.e. where's the key, who are the neighbors, etc.). While talking to my parents he was speechless to hear them say they had talked about this and decided to give us the RV. Huh? It was only a few years ago that Hubby was reluctant to even ask them to borrow it to go to a race. We've never gotten the nerve to ask. Until a few months ago. We volunteered to go the 9-hour-drive-from-hell-without-stopping drive to get it. We also volunteered to store it on our farm, as we had the room...oh, and by-the-way could we borrow it to go to a three-day race in a couple of months?

Now they've switched direction 180 degrees. They've decided they aren't going to camp anymore, but will probably just stay in motels if they go somewhere. They're just going to give it to us.

Hubby is having a hard time getting his mind wrapped around this. He's beginning to wonder if they really meant it, or if they'd been drinking at the time*. He's afraid this was all some big elaborate joke and they aren't really giving it to us so much as just letting us take over the insurance and the repair costs and the storage, then borrow it when they want to.

In the meantime, they are coming up on Friday to show us how to do some things with it - like filling/emptying the water tanks, learning about the generators, etc. Hubby's been working on the mechanical stuff - alternator, belts, so forth. After that it gets turned over to me for 'interior' work and the job of 'stocking' for the trip. I've camped before, Hubby hasn't for years and years since he was a kid. I'm not fooled. He's thinking this is going to be fun. This is going to be work.

Cross your fingers!

*My parents are not 'official' alcoholics, however I'm convinced they are 'non-official' alcoholics. Anyone who starts drinking before 9 a.m. most days and can't eat supper because they are too sloshed and just want to sleep many nights, in my mind have a problem. Weirdly, they have both been able to stop at various times in their lives. I think they make up for it in the other times of their lives. I don't believe this is social drinking if you are doing it only with your spouse. My parents are not 'nice' drunks. I do not advocate not drinking as for most people this is a perfectly normal activity with no repercussions. I drink occasionally myself. This is the end of today's lecture.

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Kill Me Now

Just get it over with. I deserve it. I'm an idiot. Glutton for punishment. Dumb as a box of rocks. A french-fry short of a Happy Meal.

I've invited my parents, BIL and family for dinner Friday night along with the Queen (MIL - not to be confused with Queen Bee) and the Princess aka SIL. Kill me now.

If I'm lucky* the Princess will have reunion stuff to do and BIL's family will be inconveniently homebound with watery diahrrea unable to come, but I'd probably better not count on it.

*I have Irish heritage, but don't seem to have the 'Luck o' the Irish' - someone in the famn damily musta forgot to kiss the Blarney Stone, or somethin'.

We're Gonna Try This Again

I did haloscan once before and when I changed templates it went away. (Okay, you technical people - I LOST it - happy?) I'm gonna try it again. Unfortunately, I lose all the comments that all you lovely people left me from before. Bummer. I have them all in my memory, however. Yes, there have been that few of you.

I can only hope traffic will pick up. Tell your friends. Tell your family. DON'T tell MY family. There. Glad we're clear on this.

The management reserves the right to track you down and stomp on your head if you tell any of my in-laws that this site exists. I mean it. Really. I have my ways. I have friends. I have lime. 'nuf said.

Be Prepared to Bow

The Princess is coming. Tomorrow night. For a few days. For her high school reunion. Can you say, "bite me"? Sorry. For those of you who haven't played our game "You Can't Kill 'Em", this is my sister-in-law who lives in Virginia. Now, taken in small doses she's fine. It's just all the lies and b.s. that comes with her.

She's the only girl. She's two years younger than Hubby. She's the one who got enough college degrees for her and both her brothers. She married a dairy farmer and has spent the next 20-something years complaining about how hard they work and how little they make and woe is me. One time she sent a letter with her usual whines, but one line stuck out "It's so frustrating when you work so hard and things go bad". We're putting it on her tombstone. It's her mantra. She lives far, far, away so it's easy to write such gibberish to her parents and siblings. We'll believe her (well, some of us will). When she talks to her mother on the phone, it's how wonderful her family is ( better in all ways than our kids) but oh, how hard they work.

My MIL talked for a long time about how hard the Princess worked on the farm, getting up at 3 a.m. to do the morning milking. Then she got a job at a nearby college where she makes good money, good benefits. Now, I hear for years about how the Princess is at work at 5 a.m.... oh, how hard she works! After a few years of this, Hubby gets up the nerve to ask what time does she go home? (Both of us having been led to believe all these years that she's sooooo overworked). She gets off at 2 p.m. Oh. Uh-huh. I see. What part of that overworked thing did we miss?

On top of that, she comes for visits and sleeps in. Think about it. I don't know about you people, but when I'm used to getting up every morning at 4, 5, 6 o'clock, then I can't sleep-in. I can go back to bed, but sleep-in? Forget it. Yet, this woman who supposedly gets up at 3 or 4 in the morning to be at work by 5 can sleep until 11? Forgive me for being a bit suspicious....

I'm also a bit jealous, I admit. According to MIL the Princess has a beautiful perennial flower bed and a lovely veggie garden. Excuse me? I've had perennial flower beds and veggie gardens since before Princess even knew there was dirt in her yard. Have I ever heard a word from MIL about my gardens? ...how hard I work in them? Arrrrggghhh!

It just gets so old. I've mentioned before about how they whine about not having money, but yet they manage to rent a house at the beach for two weeks every summer. They've been to Australia, Ireland (more than once), several states, and various other trips - funded by...wait for it...MIL. Can't prove it. Can't dis-prove it. However, a few years ago the entired family (excluding ours) went to the beach for 10 days. This included the Princess, husband and two children, and BIL, wife and two brats boys. This was to celebrate one of the Princess' kids graduation from college. They went in May, when we couldn't go because of field work. They didn't ask our kids to go (just because Hubby and I couldn't go didn't mean our kids couldn't!). Hubby wasn't happy.

He asked his mother if she was paying for this. She was evasive, then said 'no'. Yeah...right.

After they got back, sharing the photos of their wonderful time with us peons that couldn't go (thanks, people, rub it in) he happened one day to be talking to his brother - BIL.

Hubby: Sure was nice of Mom to pick up the tab for all this, wasn't it?
BIL: Yeah! Man! We couldn't have gone otherwise. It was great!

Guess MIL's a liar, huh? Like I say, this is how it goes in this family. At least with our kids if I spoil one, I try to spoil the rest.

Gotta go practice my kissing ass bowing.

I Can't Win

So last night I had a dream that Hubby woke me up. It woke me up. He didn't wake me up, it was only a dream. He was snoring. Figures.

I Want To Know Who To Gripe At

I'm getting really tired of getting interested in TV programs, then having them cancelled. Especially when they get cancelled mid-season or right before the big plot ending. I mean, come ON! I hate that! I suppose some of them have run their course and are just not going to be new anymore, but sheesh... I'm not good at re-runs. It's like books I've read - once I start reading and/or watching again, it allllllll comes back to me. Then where is the mystery? Between my Hubby and kids, we are really bad (good?) about figuring out endings pretty far in advance, so when I start watching something that surprises me (i.e.The Sixth Sense) I like to keep it up. I admit I've got rather weird taste sometimes, too, so that probably enters into it. I'm not a majority, so the networks feel there aren't enough of us out there to make it worth keeping on. It just gets really depressing sometimes. Such a letdown.

Some of the most recent that come to mind - Feel free to add to the list:

• Farscape
• Dead Like Me
• Carnival
• Firefly
• Joan of Arcadia
• Oz

I'm sure some others will come to mind. These are on my 's-hit' list right now.