Court House Blues, again.

I knew it, didn't I? Say hello to Juror #6. I don't think I'm going to make a very good juror. Two defendants so it's going to take a little bit longer. Not just two boring lawyers to listen to, but THREE boring lawyers to listen to. And the objections! Good grief, people, just get on with the program already. The reason I think I'm not a very good juror? I already feel like I have my mind made up about these sorry saps. We've seen evidence that's as plain as the nose on my face, or their own nose, however the saying goes. And they're pleading not guilty? What in the world were they thinking? Hello? These saps know they are guilty, their sorry sap lawyers know they are guilty, us jurors know they are guilty. What is the point in going through two more days of this? What is the point? OFF WITH THEIR HEADS, I SAY! Off with their heads. Yeah, I'm not biased, am I? Am I the only juror who feels this way? Gosh, I reeeally hope not.

***********

I forgot to tell about a bra story I happened upon Saturday at Kooter Brown's. Tacked up all over the walls in that bar were bras. With Kooter's signature on the cups. Next to the bras and covering every other available wall space were photographs of women holding their shirts up to show off their recently braless boobies. The beauty of the digital camera age, I guess. Developing your own pictures at home on the computer instead of getting a note from Wal-Mart saying they aren't allowed to develop pictures of that nature. I got to laughing at some of them, there was one in particular that was funny. A nice, serviceable bra that looked like it belonged on some buxom old fuddy duddy. Some one noticed me looking and laughing and they told me I needed to put my bra up there on the wall with them. "HECK NO!" I told them. "My bras are way too expensive to be hanging them up on the wall of some bar." I'd just gotten them last weekend, too. No way was I leaving one of them behind. Never leave a soldier behind, is what I've always heard. And mine work hard enough for me to be called my soldiers.

Jury Duty---Again

Will the madness ever cease? What are my odds of not being selected again today? Slim to none. I'd better be getting ready. I don't want to be late and keep Mr. Titty Bar waiting, now do I? I'm so tempted to state his real name here. But, I'll be a good girl and behave myself.

3 Day Weekend---YES

I guess I'm not the only one who's been busy the past few days. I checked on all my daily reads and no one has updated lately. Unless you want to count the Big Blogger additions. I usually don't even read those. Just skim right over them. They aren't very entertaining, almost like walking in on a private joke and no one ever explaining it to you. Makes you kind of want to lift your chin, look at the ceiling and saunter off whistling under your breath.

So, has everybody gone to the cemetery this weekend? I have never been one to do that. My grandma always has. She puts flowers on her parents' graves, her in laws' graves, her husband's, her sisters', maybe even an aunt and some brothers in law. But never once have I known her to put flowers on the grave of the daughter she lost 60 or so years ago. I use to think her callous and unfeeling toward the daughter who died in a drowning accident at such a tender age. But now that I have a daughter of my own, I think it must be just too painful for her to remember. I heard her tell the whole story one time. Once. She spoke of details such as seeing her go outside with her big sister while she was changing the baby's diaper on her own bed. When she was done changing the diaper she left him asleep on the bed, went outside to check on the girls, and it was too late. She'd already drowned in the pond. She said it with no feeling in her voice. How can she do that? This woman, who couldn't speak her husband's name without crying for nearly 20 years after he'd died. I know that by the time I was born, 30 years had gone by since the accident. But still, my Mom says that she's never known her to ever put flowers on her grave. I should go try to find it some time. How sad it that? A forgotten two year old, in her grave over 60 years.

Enough of the macabre, already, Stace. Let me tell you about my weekend so far. I'll start out with Saturday. I rode 279 miles on the back of Mike's bike. I ended up having to drive Shael to my Mom's house that morning and I met Mike at Gitter Done by 8:45 where we ate breakfast (not very good, btw). By 9:30 we were on our way to Joplin, or Carterville, to be more exact. One guy had to go work on his bike before he could go anywhere with us, so we followed my cousin, Mitchell and his gal, Tereasa, to Carterville because it was her little sister's birthday and she wanted to go wish her a happy birthday before noon so she could see her and her Dad before her Dad got too drunk. Nice. You can see where this story is going. We get there and she gets her family obligations over with and we leave after about 30 minutes or so. From there, they say they want to go to Waffle House because they hadn't wanted to eat at Gitter Done. Now I know why. But that's beside the point. While they went to eat, Mike and I went and got me a new helmet. One that fit and didn't slide to the back of my head like a yarmukle while we were flying down the road. By the time we were finished with that, they were finished at the Waffle House so we all headed off to Saginaw. Yay, ya'll haven't lived until you visit Saginaw. Just kidding. There's this little leather/bike shop there that Mike likes to visit. The dirty old man was gone to his class reunion and that I was happy about. From there, we went to another leather/bike shop over between Joplin and Neosho. It was nice in there but freaking HOT! When we stepped outside, it was actually cooler outside than it was inside. At least outside there was a breeze.

Tereasa had this thing about wanting to take the interstate. The worse thing for riding on a motorcycle is taking the interstate. Not good. I couldn't wait to get back on a normal road. We finally got off the interstate and out of Missouri. Back to good ole Oklahoma where you don't have to wear a helmet. I usually wear one anyway, but for some reason I was having trouble with my helmet, even my new one, and I couldn't wait to get it off my head. The guy who was working on his bike was finished so we went by his house and he rode with us then. Jim. He's my Dad's age. Weird. So, the five of us headed south from Grove on three bikes. We went to Little Kansas and stopped at a biker bar. Fun, fun, fun. Mike ordered a beer and we had a "heated discussion" on his drinking that day. He said he'd only drink two or three. His beer got there and it was in a QUART MASON JAR! 32 oz of Bud Light. I pleaded with him to stop at one, since it was so huge. He finally, reluctantly, agreed. Well, someone ordered him a second round while I was in the bathroom and when I came back, there was a brand new one sitting on the bar in front of him. ??? What was a girl to do? I don't drink, and Mike had promised me he wouldn't drink any more. So, there it sat, sweating and leaving a big water mark on the bar. Everybody finally decided to head on out to the next bar, down by Welling. A place called Kooter Brown's. Yeah. Mitchell called out to Mike to drink up, he'd ordered him another. Mike then starts the process of embarrassing and ultimately humiliating me in front of everyone in the bar. "Nope! Can't do it. I'm cut off. She won't let me drink another drop. Sorry, boys. She has this hang up about me drinking while I'm on the bike." And on, and on, and on. I wanted to cry. Tereasa even looked at me and said "Well, that wasn't very fair of you to make him promise something like that!" I SO wanted to tell her to kiss off, or some other nasty phrase that had the word "off" in it, but I held my tongue, shrugged my shoulders and turned around and walked out of the building. I could feel the tears stinging my eyes, so I pulled my sunglasses down real quick. We pulled in to that bar with three bikes. We pulled out of it with 13. Thirteen bikes and we were right in the middle of them.

We headed south from Little Kansas to Welling, which is near Talequah. Beautiful drive. We lost about four of the bikes along the way, they turned around and went back for some reason. We finally made it to Kooter Brown's and the place was empty! We filled it up when we got there. Mike and I played darts and we drank Dr. Pepper, how's that? Just as the band got there and were setting up, everyone decided to move on. So, we headed out. I wouldn't have minded staying and listening to the band for a while, but I was outvoted.

Off we went to Stillwell. What use to be a hole in the wall town now has grown to have it's very own McDonald's. Stillwell has arrived! Between Kooter's and Stillwell was another beautiful drive. I saw a field with a herd (yes, an actual herd!) of light gray donkeys. There were about 20 of them grazing around. I saw them and instantly thought of Leon and the tears started smarting at my eyes again. I leaned over and said to Mike "There's always something that reminds me of Leon and I start crying all over again". He kind of laughed and said he'd thought of Leon, too. Leon loved his donkeys.

Coming around a corner, there was a truck over the double yellow. Yikes! The only scary thing of the whole day. But, of course, we were fine. Thank God. I'd been praying all day, anyway, on the back of that bike.

At Stillwell, we all got fuel and went on from there for a bar called Dirty Birds in West Silome Springs. Another beautiful drive. By then, the sun was starting to go down and it was getting a little cooler. We got to Dirty Birds and they had a band there and were already charging a cover charge. No one wanted to pay the cover charge so people kind of scattered. Some of us went to the Cherokee Casino for some food. Mike and I hadn't eaten anything since Gitter Done. By then, the hunger was completely gone and I was just tired. But, we went to the casino to eat. It took FOREVER to get our food, but it was pretty good once we finally got it. They had a band, too, and they didn't even charge a cover. The band was tight, playing dance music from the 70's, 80's and 90's. We ate then had to gamble some. I mean, why not, we were already there! Mike and I walked around looking for two machines together. Two .25 cent machines, we're not big enough gamblers to pay $1 a spin. We finally found two machines together and Mike grudingly handed me over a $20 bill as he grudingly put in his own $20 bill. I played mine down to $10 but Mike. Mike spun once, nothing, spun twice, won $80. He cashed out, after I looked at him and said "You'd better cash that out, baby, because if you don't, I'll do it for you!" He put in another $5 but didn't win anything. I tried to put in a $5 in the machine on the other side of him but it wouldn't take it. I tried and tried but finally quit, deciding it was probably trying to tell me something. The band was still rockin' the place and we found some nickel machines that I sat down at. Mike said he was done for the night so he just stood there and watched me. Watched me win! I always win at those nickel or penny machines. I only put in a $5 but I had it up to $13 at one time. When I had it played down to $10, Mitchell and Tereasa came by and said they were ready to leave. I wasn't ready yet, but Mike wanted to stick with the pack, so I cashed out and we left. Bummer, the band was good.

From there, we went to yet another bar, named Pete's Place. Just down the road a spell. We walked in, cover charge of $4 a person and the band was so loud, and COUNTRY. I wanted to turn right around and walk out. No thanks, I'll wait outside. But, noooo. We walked in, I turned and looked at Mike, willing him to read my mind and for him to say "Hey, we're going to go on, see you guys later". But, nooooo, (once again). Mike paid the $8 and in we went. We only stayed about 15 minutes, and the entire time was spent standing over by the smelly bathrooms, with our arms crossed. Mike looked down at me after about 5 minutes and said "This place is a dive. This just ain't my kind of crowd". Let me tell you, it wasn't any more of a dive than any of the other places we'd visited that day. I don't know why he thought it was. When we left, Mike tried to get his money back. Ha! Like that was going to happen. I think he was only half joking, but he was still half serious.

Finally, we were on our way home. It was after midnight when we made it home. It felt so good to stretch out in that bed. After all that, we even had the energy for a few minutes of TKAOOTHLS. Yeah, baby. Notice I said a few minutes. LOL!

Keep Your Stick On The Ice

I haven't watched The Red Green Show in forever! Mike and I use to be avid watchers. But, our local PBS station quit showing it. Or they changed the day and/or time and we never found it again. But, anyway, here are some funny quotes from that show. Enjoy!

What next?

Roberta was talking to these two kids today like they were adults. They're like 9 and 10 years old and she's telling them all her "stolen identity" woes. What the heck?! Crazy woman. I overheard her tell them that the bank keeps trying to tell her that the charges are coming from someone in the home. But she argues that it's not her Gary doing it. Whatever.

I get so aggravated at that woman.

Hoo Boy

Okay, is it me, or are people getting weirder? This is a REAL story from the on line newspaper.

Wed May 24, 1:41 PM ET
Police in Tulsa have a strange investigation on their hands on Wednesday.
A woman told officers she caught a man lying under her car and licking her feet in a Wal-Mart parking lot.
"I felt something lick my foot. I looked at him and I said, 'What in the hell are you doing?'" said Lorrie.
Lorrie asked that her last name remain anonymous.
She said that she was loading her groceries into her car when she felt something wet on her toes. Lorrie assumed it was a dog, but she looked down and said she saw the man under the car.
Lorrie said the toe attacker ran off before police could arrive.

These Are The Days Of Our Lives

After whining to my BF that my life is so non dramatic and that the people I work with are so boring and nothing exciting ever happens to anyone I know, something crops up. Something potentially ridiculous. Ms. Roberta is a fruitcake. She drives me nuts. No pun intended there. She "teaches" the toddlers and I really don't like the way she does things, but I don't get paid to complain. I do, however get paid to do her job about 75% of the time. But, that's in the complaining department, so I won't go there any more than I already have.

Aaaanyway. Today, she tells me that someone has stolen her bank card number and has racked up a lot of charges. She told me that for the months of February, March and April she kept getting over drafts and she couldn't figure out why. Three months, people, and she didn't do something about it in February? She finally, at the beginning of May, went to the bank to investigate. They, I am assuming, gave her a print out of all her debits and credits. Turns out that someone was using her debit card on the Internet. Hmmm, guess what they were buying? It starts with a P and ends with an N and has an O and an R in between. She told me one day a deposit of $550 was made in her account but she was so over drawn that it made her balance $52. That's bad! I asked her as politely as I could if it was her husband and she said "Oh, no, Gary doesn't know my bank card number". Well, pardon my French here when I say BULLSHIT! Let me tell you a little sumpin' 'bout Gary: The guy stays up until 2:00 and 3:00 in the morning playing around on the computer. He stays home, he doesn't work, and plays on the computer all day long. What do you all think? Oh, yeah. The man may be an idiot, but he ain't stupid. Something else we all know about the dirty old man: he's obsessed with boobs. Do I think it's Gary racking (here I go again with the unintended puns) up the pr0n (as Hillbilly Mom calls it) charges? You bet your boobies, I do.

Raaaaiiiinn

I love this rain. It's perfect. I don't have to water the berries now.

Those of you who know me and want to know who this is, you can email me. Those of you who don't, you really don't care who this is anyway, right? But, I am pleased as punch, tickled pink, and any other euphemism you want to insert there for this guy who just graduated with a B.A. in Art. Congrats! I love ya, baby!

This Just Ain't Right

I am blogging from work. I have been cruising the Internet for the past two hours or so. And now, I'm posting on my blog. From work. This is what Mike calls "Stinking and drawing a paycheck".
I didn't have one single baby today. There weren't very many kids in the whole building today, either. I've wondered around, done a little decorating on the wall outside of my room. I was in the middle of that when the kids laid down for nap and I didn't want to wake them up by slamming on my stapler on the other side of the wall from them.
I think I'll call Mikey and see if he wants to go for a ride on his bike since it's just the two of us again tonight. Last night was the perfect night, if you didn't mind chancing getting rained on. As it turned out, it didn't rain at all around here, but you never know until it happens. Had we gotten on the bike and taken a little trip, I'm sure it would have rained. Happens to Mike every time, seems like. I'm never with him when it does that and when he gets rained on I usually think that it serves him right for going on a ride without me.
I'd better get going. The kids are up and now I'll be able to bang on that stapler.
Ta!

Branson + Mike = Tension

I honestly don't think I'll ever ask Mike to go with me to Branson ever again. He is absolutely no fun there. He gripes about the traffic, he gripes about the old people and how slow they are, he gripes about how much everything costs. He just gripes about everything!

We were going to go to the Titanic, but we got in a fight and he said we were going to go home. And we did. But first Shael wanted some taffy that we didn't get a chance to get at Steal Your Dollar City, I mean Silver Dollar City, so we went to downtown Branson to get her some taffy. Well, guess what? There was an arts and crafts show going on and some of the streets were blocked off. We ended up looking through every booth, just about. We spent a couple hours traipsing through the downtown area before we even made it to the taffy. We finally made it out of there, after looking in two leather stores (both the same place, different location) and me trying on a pair of bright pink leather chaps. Yeah, I felt like a dork, but the chaps were nice. The lady said she'd make us a deal. All three matching pieces, the chaps, the vest and the jacket, all for only $550. Well, how 'bout just the chaps today, then? I'll give 'em to ya for only $200. No, not today? Okay! They were top quality leather, but $200 for a pair of pink chaps was a little much, in our opinion. After we got out of there, Mike said he would go to his guy in Spavinaw and ask him if he could order that brand and get them cheaper. Get this, the brand name was Eunik. Pronounced like eunuch. How appropriate that a pair of pink chaps be called eunuchs.

We finally left downtown Branson and headed to Springfield. We ran across the new traffic circle on the way back to Highway 65. Look kids! Big Ben! Parliament! Since we don't either one have the homing device to Lane Bryant like Diva, we had to guess where the mall was. It was an easy guess since we found an exit to Battlefield Drive and the name of the Mall is Battlefield Mall. We found the mall easy enough, but had no idea where to go in for the shortest walk to Lane Bryant. Naturally, we walked in on the farthest end from Lane Bryant. When Shael asked what kind of store Lane Bryant was, Mike told her it was a store for big boned women. Nice. But, I got me two new bras, now the girls don't have to look at the same bra every day. I was down to one bra and I wasn't about to succumb to the uniboob.

From the mall, we did use Mike's homing beacon to make it to BassPro. There he spent an ungodly amount of money without the slightest bit of bitching on items he really didn't even need. He bought a tent that he can strap to the bike. That was what he went for. No problem there, but he bought two just because they were so cheap ($20 each). Then he bought a little collapsible cooler just because he thought it was neat and might come in handy some day ($13) and he could strap it on the bike easily, too. Then he goes out into the clearance tent and finds some two way radios that have a 7 mile radius on sale from $59 to $39. He buys them, even though he doesn't need them. Just because they were cheap.

We ate at the biggest Braum's I've ever seen and then we were off. Shael got dropped off at Mike's parents' for a few days worth of visiting. I told her to call when she got ready to come home. I figure by Friday she'll be calling. An entire week, just about. I'll let her live it up, she's got summer school starting soon. I went in and used their bathroom, stood in the living room for about 5 minutes and then excused myself for the picnic table in the back yard. I could feel the cat hair getting stuck in my throat and I didn't want a repeat of last week. No freakin' way. So, I stayed outside getting munched on by skeeters while Mike bs-ed with his Dad. Not for very long, though. His Dad can be hard to visit with and Mike doesn't like to stay too long when his Mom is gone. She was gone to church.

Then we came home. He did fill my car up with gas in Wyandotte before we got home. I thought that was a nice peace offering. The Lucky Turtle Casino was full on a Sunday night. Fuller than the churches in town. How sad is that?

I Can Taste It

The weekend is so close. Only a few more hours. Mike is taking off work around 1:00. Shael gets out of school for her last day (for a couple weeks, anyway) at 1:30. Mike is going to pick Shael up then meet me at home to pick up our stuff and then take off. Finally, a weekend away with my man and my kid. We're going to have some family fun if it kills us, dang it! Goin' to Branson. Wit da family. I've really been looking forward to this trip, even if Mike finds it a bore.

Well, I made it once again. I slipped by unscathed a second time in one week. Out of the 51 people available to be chosen for today's jury, I was not chosen. Not even looked at or considered. I was so relieved. It was a child sex abuse case, too. I was sweating bullets there for a while. Is my name next? Will they call out my number? Oh, please don't let one more person be excused and leave an opening for me. But God was looking out for me again and I didn't get selected. When I finally got out of there I called Mike up and said "Hey! They didn't call on me, hallelujah!" Could I have been able to come to a non biased conclusion about this case? I'm not sure. And I thought the DUI would have been difficult. Nothing like this is.

I saw Tater at the courthouse. Seems she works there these days. Good, girl. Go file those deeds! She didn't want to be a stay at home lady once her kids were both in school. Being the stay at home lady means that you do everybody else's grunt work that they don't have time for because they are at work. That was me for a long time. A LONG time. And even when I went back to work certain people still expected me to do their grunt work and work full time. Okay? How does one do that? If you can figure it out, let me know, okay? Without taking off work, mind you.

It is official. I am now enrolled in college for the fall semester. NEO again. On scholarship, so I don't have to pay for anything. I'm so happy to finally have it over with. Thanks Amy. It's sometimes hard to think of people all grown up when you know them as children. Amy and Tater. Going on a Scrapbooking trip. Have fun ladies. No new tattoos while high on scrapbook ink, or whatever it is that you girls are doing. hee hee.

Mike called me at work today and asked me to go on a bike ride with him this afternoon. He actually asked me if I wanted to. Do I want to? Heck yeah! Need you even ask? I didn't think we were ever going to get going, though. First, when I met him at the casino to park my car, I heard a hissing sound that Mike was oblivious to. He was getting a flat. He'd taken Shael home and the freshly grated road gave him a flat on his bike. Yuck. So, we drove about 20 mph to Get R Done (yup, we have a really nice convenience store named after a catch phrase) and Mike put in a can of fix a flat. But he couldn't air it up there because the air hose was broken. We drove back to the car where I keep a little air compressor that runs on the cigarette lighter. Finally we got the tire aired up and we took off. We drove about 1 mile and it rained a few drops on us. What? But, that was all it did. A few minutes later, we ended up at Mike's friend, Craig's, house. And we stayed there for a spell. So long a spell, I was beginning to wonder if we were ever going to ride. But, I never complained and we finally left. We didn't do a whole lot of open road driving, we drove in to Grove, drove around and looked at all the fancy houses at Patricia Island. After that we stopped and got Mike and Shael something to eat and came home. Mike didn't come home right away. It's men's night, after all, at the casino. He played on his free $10 for a while, had it up to $27, but played it down to $10 again and cashed out. A free 10 dollar bill. Then he came home. I came home right away and found that Shael didn't like what Mike got for her to eat so she went to bed without eating. She'd eaten something while we were gone, I'm sure, or she wouldn't have gone to bed so easy without arguing about supper.

One more day of school. Until summer school starts next month. It's the whole month of June, yet it only lasts for 16 days. How do they manage that? Monday through Thursday of each week. She's mad, but she'll get over it. She has to miss church camp, which sucks, but oh, well.

Well, I'm off. It's friggin' 11:00 and I'm up? I think I'm too excited to sleep. I'm like that commercial for Disney Land? "You asleep? Nope. Too excited" Good Night!

Must Be A Middle Age Thing

If I'm reaching middle aged, then I'll only live to be 66. That ain't right!

I think I'm getting weirder in my music listening habits. If I become boorish, or snobbish in a Charles Emerson Winchester the Third kind of way, some body please let me know. But classical music is starting to mean more and more to me. Mr. Medders would be so proud to know that he opened that door for me all those years ago. It hung ajar for so many years, and then would only partially open with a creak in the fall for a few more years. But starting in November of 2005, the creaky door swung wide open and now so many new sounds and ideas are flooding in. Now if I start liking pipe organ music, I'll know I've changed. For a person who is really in to lyrics, some how music without lyrics is speaking to me louder than words ever have. Or in some instances, words in a foreign language I don't understand. At first I thought "Who knows? They could be telling me I'm ugly and stupid and I would never know" but I did a tiny bit of research and have discovered that the ones that moved me the most end up being psalms or hymns in Latin or even German. Maybe I'd make a good Lutheran, should I ask Garrison Keillor? Listen to this. That's what I heard on the radio the other day and the nice people at KRPS were wonderful at getting back to me and letting me know all the info on the song. Thanks KRPS! You guys are great! Listen to those song samples! Am I losing it? That stuff moves me? That's Middle Ages stuff. Renaissance music. I've never been in to music like this before. I'm anxious to see what I'll be in to next.

Cats are HORRIBLE little fuzzy creatures that are baaaad for you!

Monday came and went in the worst way. I had to be at the court house by 9:00 so I was there by 8:50. I went in, found a seat and started to freeze my booty off. I started up a conversation with this lady next to me about the old courthouse. I mentioned that I hoped that they could save some of the marble and tribal emblems for the new courthouse that should be going up in the next five years or so. She said it was a shame that they were going to tear the current one down because it was such a "nice, old building". I ruefully laughed and told her I wasn't sure about it be nice, but it certainly was old. I told her to look up. And when she did she literally gasped. There, surrounding all six of the a/c vents was this black crud that was inches thick on the ceiling. Yeah. That's what we are breathing, lady.
After sitting there being miserable for 2-1/2 hours I was given permission to leave with about 35 or 40 other people who weren't selected. Those poor other sods had to stay behind and try yet another poor sod for a DUI. Guilty, I say! Guilty! Any man who would show up for his own hearing wearing a white t-shirt tucked in to his gray sweats deserves to be sentenced with a guilty verdict.
When I got back to work, I was feeling worse. I took my temp and I had a fever. A fever! No wonder I was feeling so bad at the courthouse. I only lasted two hours at work and had to go home, the fever was doing nothing but going up and I had taken a Motrin. I went home and went to bed with my new lover. He's blue and soft, but man is he hot. And he makes me hot. It's the heating pad, people. Geez, get your mind out of the gutter, why don't you? Every joint in my body was screaming with pain. When Mike got home he gave me some Tylenol PM and that fever finally broke around 1:00 in the morning. When I woke up covered with sweat. I thought I had the flu but by the next morning, I was fine and went back to work. It must have been the worst allergy attack of my life. Those evil cats at my mil's had everything to do with it, I'm sure because I started feeling it while we were still at her house Sunday night. When I was sitting on her couch in a beam of sunshine and I could see cat hair flying about, being sucked into my nostrils with each breath. I kept swatting and blowing them away, but they were everywhere! My mil finally asked me if there were gnats in my face, or what. If only. At least gnats don't make me sick.

There's another trial (maybe) starting tomorrow so I have to call back in after 5:00 tonight to see what to do. Lord, please don't let me be called on for this one. I'll have to tell them I can't do it if I do, and I really don't want to talk to the judge. He's so intimidating. And I know that he visits titty bars and gets lap dances so I can hardly look at him in the face without those images cropping up. *shudder* I have a vacation planned for this weekend and we are leaving Friday afternoon, I can't be stuck in court. We already have tickets for a show in Branson for Friday night! One of the questions asked of the jurors that was picked for the last trail was did anyone have an appointment of any kind that could not be rescheduled. That will have to be me this time. I hate talking in front of a crowd. Grow a spine, Stacie! You can do it! Just say in your boldest voice "Excuse me, Mr. Titty Bar Man. Err, I mean, Mr. Lap Dance. Oops, I mean Your Honor"

A La Peanut Butter Sandwiches!

Did all you Mom's out there have a good Mother's Day? I hope so. Mine was not typical for me, but still as mundane, if that makes any sense. I didn't go to church with my Grandma, so that made it atypical. We still left church early so we could go out to eat lunch with her at Golden Corral in Joplin. Very typical. Picture this, we get there and the line is out the door. While we stand in line for 20 minutes or longer, Grandma is inside eating already. My two uncs and the lady who stays with Grandma on weekends got there with Grandma before us and they couldn't save us a table (of course, I wouldn't expect them to with a crowd like that). So, they are inside eating while we are waiting in line. We finally get through the line, but we can't get a table next to Grandma's. Instead we are near her, but in a complete different room. There's a wall between us. There's 17 of us, and we all got tables next to each other. We ate, we visited, we left. As we were walking out, there was Grandma. STILL EATING! I swear the woman is slower than molasses in January. Sometimes when my Mom gets out there in the evenings at 5:00, Grandma is still eating lunch that was served at 12:30 or 1:00. Yeah. I had stopped on my way in and said hi, how are ya and all that jazz. On my way out, I stopped again and told her Happy Mother's Day and "glad we got to visit!". She just laughed. Grandma. Gotta love her. And I mean that literally. I have to love her, I'm her grand daughter.

From there we went and washed the car (the highlight of Shael's day) and stopped at Southerland's and looked at all kinds of stuff. Then we went on to Mike's Mom's house. Where there are FOUR cats where once there was only one. In the house. Ugh. We stayed there a few hours until it was time for me to go to church. Then I dropped Mike and Shael off at the garage where I'd met him earlier in the day and I went to church and he and Shael went home. When I was coming home I had this fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe, the two of them had gotten a spur of the moment idea and unloaded and loaded the dishwasher and maybe even ran the dishwasher while I was gone to church for the evening. But, no, I should have known better. Instead, there were more dirty dishes in the sink when I got home than there was when I left in the morning. What would Mother's Day be like for me if I didn't have a big mess to clean up? I wouldn't know.

It Is Finished

Well, he's buried. It's over. I cried more during the week than I cried at the funeral. I guess I was pretty cried out. It was a very moving ceremony. All four of the daughters, the sons in law, and all eight of the grandchildren spoke. Then six friends of his got up and spoke. Not to mention the two mini-sermons from two of the preachers from our own church. It started at 2:00 and we didn't leave for the cemetery until 4:30. The gravesite was over pretty quick.

*I would like to take this moment to say that the Grove, Oklahoma police department are in dire need of some funeral etiquette skills.*

This was a very, very large funeral procession. I mean, Pastor Leon was Pastor of the same church for 30 years, longer than any other Pastor in the entire town. Eighty churches in foreign countries are there as a direct result of this man and this church. He was much beloved. The police stopped traffic for the funeral procession at the stop light and then as soon as the family limo was through the light, the cop left! The entire family was not even through the light yet! The family limo wasn't big enough to hold the whole family so they were each driving their own cars and the police just left and when the light turned, PEOPLE STARTED DRIVING THROUGH, RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FUNERAL PROCESSION! How completely rude! We didn't even have a police escort to the cemetery! We had some kind of VIPS escort. Volunteer In Police Service. The road that would normally be taken to the cemetery was closed due to construction, so we had to take an alternate route. But the police didn't even help at all. I was very disappointed and am hoping that they get some kind of reprimand for their behavior. People were not even pulling over to the side of the road because they had no idea that it was a funeral procession, there were people who weren't a part of the funeral procession intermingled with us, not having any idea they were in the middle of it. I wasn't upset with them, because how were they to even know? I was VERY upset with the Grove Police. Talk about rude. In the words of Captain Call : I won't tolerate rude behavior.

After the funeral, my sister and I drove on over to Jawbones. Good ole Jared was nice enough to torture me for a few minutes and I got my new tattoo. I really like it, it it totally what I wanted. Roni thought it was ultra cool, too. Afterwards, Roni was summing it up pretty good, "How anti-climatic!" So, we headed off to the casino. First I had to take Shael home (she'd sat in the car and listened to Radio Disney while I got my tat, does that make me a bad parent? HA!). I dropped her off at the house, rented a movie on pay per view for her and then left. Mike had taken off for the bike rally that I was too chicken to go to. I made it back to the casino and Roni was waiting on me wondering what was taking me so long, I'm sure. I didn't win anything to speak of. I had $40 and I lost $23 of it. I wasn't willing to walk out of there with no money, so I quit while I still had some money. But, we stayed and visited for several hours. I got home at 1:05 and Mike was home first. I gave myself a triumphant "YES!" when I saw that he got home before me. When I walked in the house, Shael was still up and said "It's about time you got home!" Mike was sound asleep in bed and I tried to be as quiet as I could when I climbed in next to him. This morning when I woke up, it was 10:05! I couldn't believe it! I haven't slept that late in a long time. Mike woke up about the same time and wanted to see my new tat. I rolled over and he was surprised that it was so small. Like I'm going to get some huge gaudy tattoo? *sings If You Don't Know Me By Now*

Mike asked me this morning what I wanted for Mother's Day. So I told him. A massage. He told me to find a place and he'd pay for it. I'm getting a massage! Woo-Hoo! Pardon me while I do my I'm-getting-a-massage-dance.

Okay, I'm done. While a massage today or tomorrow sounds great, I want my tattoo to heal up a little bit first. Next weekend we are going to Branson for a mini vacation and I told him I would find a place there and he could take me then. He agreed. That's amazing. Now, I really can hardly wait.

Normally, on Mother's Day, we head up to my Grandma's church for Mother's Day. But, due to the circumstances, I feel like I should be at my own church this Sunday. I'm not sure how my Grandma will react, but honestly, I don't care. My sister seems to think Grandma is immortal, anyway, so there's plenty of Mother's Days in the future for us. LOL. Roni, I think we should put Grandma on the next Highlander movie. After church, we are going to head on up to Joplin and meet her at the Golden Corral for lunch. That should be entertaining. You know how busy that's going to be? Fun, Fun, Fun! Can't wait.

Oy.

Thought For The Day

Thought for the day:

There is more money being spent on breast implants and Viagra today than on Alzheimer's research. This means that by 2040, there should be a large elderly population with perky boobs and huge erections and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them.

It Feels Like It's Raining All Over The World

Last night was visitation at the church. Today at 2:00 we bury our Pastor. You know, I've still not said the words out loud.

I've told three people (at work) that I had a funeral to go to. Two of these people knew the situation and knew who's immediately. The other was my boss and I only told him because I took the entire day off. Tuesday, the day he died, I had a banquet to attend for the child care providers in the area. It started at 6:00 and I don't even get off work until 5:00 and Val didn't get off work until 5:35. She and Linda rode to Miami with me. My Mom called me with the news of his death between the time I got home and the time I left again for the banquet. But, I sucked it up, held it all in, and tried to make myself appear "normal". I didn't want to ruin the evening for everybody so I kept it to myself. I also didn't want people to think that I expected hugs and pats and stuff like that. That is the last thing in the world I would have wanted. I'm not much on the touchy feely type stuff. The following day, Wednesday, as soon as Valerie got to work, her and Linda were in my room and I said "Well, girls, it looks like I'll be going to his funeral on Friday." Valerie just gasped and Linda stood there not knowing what to do or say. That day was the worst. It rained all day and it rained hard. It looked and felt outside the same way I felt on the inside. Like it was raining all over the world. I cried off and on throughout the entire day. Never in front of people, I didn't want to make others uncomfortable and embarrass myself. Thankfully, with this job, I get plenty of alone time. And everybody seemed to catch on real quick that I needed some space and kept their distance. At one point, I was washing dishes and this song came on the radio that was perfect for the way I was feeling. It sounded kind of monkish. Not Monkish, like the USA TV show Monk. We'll save those feelings for another day. But, like temple monks, monkish. It sounded very melancholy and brought about the feeling of someone unleashing their soul of bitter pain. I broke down and cried and cried over that sink of soapy water. The song lasted quite a while, some of those songs on NPR can last up to 45 minutes or longer. When it was over, the DJ said the name of it and I immediately went and wrote it down. I didn't catch who it was performing it, but I know I can call and ask them about it or send them an email and they will help me. The name? "In great distress I call out to You" How fitting, I thought.

Yesterday morning it was cold in the house so I thought I'd take a nice long hot bath. I've got the water running getting ready to get in and the phone rings. It's 6:55, who would be calling other than Mom or Mike? I answer it and it's my cousin Mitchell. Huh? I gave him Mike's cell number (after a split second thought of telling him no, Mike couldn't come out to play today or for the next few days) and went back to the bathroom and climbed into the tub. I was relaxing, reading a 13 year old Mary Higgins Clark book that I'd never read and the phone rings again. "It's Mike this time," I think to myself, and didn't move from my position in the steamy water. Fifteen minutes later the phone rings again. Good golly! He doesn't give up, does he? So, I climbed out of the tub and answer the phone. Sure enough, it's Mike. He says he is going to skip work and go on the "pig trail" with Mitchell and asked me to bring him a different shirt when I go to work and if he was still around he would stop and get it. The pig trail is a bike ride down in the mountains of Arkansas. They call it that because of the wild razorback pigs found in the area. I mentioned the visitation being that night and he said he would maybe make it back maybe not. He'd just have to see what happened. I got off the phone and climbed back into the tub. But this time I couldn't seem to relax. I cried and cried some more. I needed Mike the other night and he wasn't there for me. I need him more now than I did then, is he going to brush me off once again to go riding with Mitchell, again? So, I got out of the tub, went straight to the phone and called his cell. I got his voice mail and I left a shaky voice mail. I said to him "Babe? You tell me all the time that you aren't a mind reader and to tell you what I want. This is what I want. Visitation is at 6:00 tonight and I really need you there with me. Please be there by 6:00." I got ready for work, I went to work, he never came by to pick up the shirt and I was left wondering if he got my message. I wasn't going to call again. At 4:00 he called. He told me that he got my message and he would meet me there at 6:00.

Because Mike had to make it a "short" day (they only rode 305 miles in eight hours) they all made it a short day. Hardly any stopping, and all riding. They only stopped at one bar and that was around 1:00 and Mike drank a Coke. On my way to the church, I met both his riding buddies and I waved at them and neither one waved back at me. They either didn't recognize my car or they were ticked that I ruined their day. Mike told me later last night that he got my message at 10:30 in the morning and they were filling up in Jay. Not too far from home. He asked how long it was going to take and I guess if it was going to take too long he was going to have to tell them he couldn't go. Oh, I can hear the martyrdom in his voice now if he wouldn't have been able to go! One guy asked him if it would be a matter of divorce if he blew me off and Mike told them no, not divorce, but it wouldn't be good at home for a long, long time if he did. Then he told them what the deal was and the guy said "It amazes me what great lengths people go through to ruin your day. Just up and die like that so you can't have a good day." Have I ever mentioned that I loath Mike's riding buddies? That comment right there cinched it for me. And one of them is my very own first cousin. Who says you have to like your entire family?

Mike made it by 5:39, he pulled into the church parking lot right behind us. His face was as red as a radish. Except where his do-rag was covering his forehead and his glasses were covering his eyes. They were still white. I don't know how many people commented on it at the church. I saw so many people that I remembered from when I was a little girl. Names would escape my memory, but I recognized their faces. Some of them remembered me and we spoke and when they'd see Shael they would be amazed at how she looks like me. By the end of the evening Shael was complaining that she was sick of hearing that she looked just like her Mom. As we were walking out I told her "At least people aren't saying you look just like your brother because that's what I always heard when I was your age". We went on to McDonald's for a bite to eat (my yearly quota has been filled, I feel I shouldn't be forced to eat there for another 12 months) and Mike went to the bathroom to wash up before eating. He came back and said "MAN! Now I know what everybody was talking about! I looked up in the mirror and said 'WHOA! Now, that's freaky!'" I didn't know he didn't realize what he looked like. Like an American flag without the blue and the stars. Just red and white stripes. Yeah. That is freaky.

Here's another picture of them together. I'm not sure if it will come out any clearer than the other one I posted. I didn't take this picture, it was sent to me in an email from a lady at the church, so I'm not sure when it was taken. Some time around Christmas because that's the church's Christmas tree they are standing in front of.

Here's my Pastor on April 23, about two weeks before he died. It was two days after his birthday. He was giving us words of encouragement even in his time of need. He hadn't been able to make it to church for about four weeks, but for his birthday, a recliner was brought in and one of his sons in law wheeled him in in a wheel chair. On March 23, a mere month earlier, this man had been in Branson, shopping for new clothes and having a wonderful three day holiday with his wife of 49 years (it was their anniversary). The day they got back from Branson everything fell apart. He was finally talked in to going to the doctor and they put him on oxygen and he stayed at his oldest daughter's home for four weeks. He went back to the doctor for some tests, came home and fainted. He was rushed back to the hospital and a few days later his lungs collapsed. He was sedated and put on a ventilator but it didn't do any good. His lungs just couldn't last another day. I don't know how many days they kept him on the ventilator, but when they took it out, he didn't live long without it. Longer than most people, the nurses said. Usually people are gone within 10 to 15 minutes when it's removed. Brother Leon breathed on his own for several hours but his wife knew he wasn't coming out of it. But, he got a chance to say his good byes before the tubes were put down his throat. He was telling her some financial things, and some matters of the heart, then he added "And don't sell the jack asses". A teaser till the very end. He loved his donkeys and he'd had these two for quite a while. She said to us, the congregation, the sheep, if you will, "I guess I'll be keeping those stupid jack asses until they drop dead out in the field!"

The other picture is of us laying hands on him and praying for him. It was during this time I looked over at my Mom and found a size sticker still on her shirt. Right down the front, a long strip of clear tape with "M" written several times in a vertical column. I reached out and snatched it off as I said "Mother!" and she laughed and said "And this is the second time I've worn this shirt! I wore it in Hawaii!" We both got a laugh out of that one.

Surreal

My Pastor for 30 years has passed away. I would love to write a long, moving eulogy here, but frankly I'm too torn up inside for words. I have never lost anyone this close before.

Well Done, My Good And Faithful Servant

I'm just happy to know that my last words spoken to you were "I LOVE YOU" and that I really and truly meant it.

I'm Still Around

Sorry about the lag. I've not been home much lately. And when I've been home, I've not been on line much. Strange of me, I know. But it happens every once in a while.
Saturday I pretty much stayed in bed all day long. Mike stayed home, Shael was at my in-laws, and we curled up in bed and watched TV, snuggled a lot, took a 3 hour nap, and talked about whatever thoughts entered our heads. No, Diva, we didn't even have LKAOOTHS because of my back, but it was enjoyable, nonetheless.
The Tribal meeting that was suppose to be Saturday morning, well, it's a long story so I'll try giving you the short version. I got a call Friday night that it was cancelled. I didn't go Saturday morning. Around 7:00 in the evening, I ventured outside for the first time all day. My neighbor's son was over at his Mom's house and they were outside walking around. When they saw me going to my mailbox they came over and visited. He's a tribal member and he told me the latest. It seems the chief cancelled the meeting only for those apposed to him (which I am) and held the meeting for those on his side and he did some major damage that day.
Sunday afternoon, Mike was gone on his bike, Shael was still at then in-laws, I jumped up and started praying my heart out. I discovered that I was mad. Not just mildly perturbed, but I was hot, stinking MAD.
And, I'll have to finish that thought later. It's 7:15 and I have to get Shael up and around to leave by 7:45. I've not even taken a shower myself. Mike overslept this morning so I have to take her to school.
More later!

Since I'm feeling better this morning that must mean that I have to go back to the chiropractor so he can make me hurt again. The days immediately following a visit to him are horrible. I hurt so bad I can hardly walk. I'm sure watching me walk from behind people think I must have a cob shoved up my butt or something. I don't know how many more times I have to go to this guy. I'm hoping not much more.

Last night I took Shael to the high school band concert so she could earn extra credit for her band class. I got off work at 5:00 and the concert started at 7:00. That's enough time to make the BLT's that I had planned. One snafu occurred. On my way home, I kept nodding off. It's those pain pills I'm taking. So, when I got home, instead of cooking for my family, I took a nap. On a heating pad. It felt pretty good, too. Until Mike and Shael got home. First thing Mike does is come in there and shut and lock our bedroom door. That, to Shael, is an open invitation to bang on the door. He tells her to go away because Mamma was taking a nap. Well, because he'd gone out the night before with a buddy (I won't go in to detail here because I'm still miffed at him about that) and didn't get home until late, he decided he needed a little nap, too. Nothing ruins a good easy going nap faster than a hulking, snoring husband twitching next to you. I finally gave up on getting any more z's before time to leave and go up to get ready for the concert. Mike gave me $20 and told me to pick up pizza from Weldon's on my way home.
Right before we left I get a phone call with some very distressing news. I'm asked to pray. There's prayer at the church at 7:00 but I knew I wouldn't be able to make it. When we got to the school, I told Shael to go on it, but I took a walk around the dike and prayed. I stopped half way around and stood looking out over the water and prayed and prayed.

When I finally went in, I found that I should have stayed out just 20 more minutes. That way I could have missed out on the choir. I got in on the last minute or two or the jazz band. They were pretty good. The jazz band, still like it use to be, is like the best of the best of the regular concert band. The true musicians, not the ones who are in band just because they didn't want to take art or some other off beat reason. The ones who feel the music, can become one with it, can make it sound wonderful and not just notes coming out of an instrument. The jazz band isn't very big, but they sound big. Very impressive. Next up, the choir. Oh. My. Goodness. They were truly awful. They sang three songs and each song lasted about 5 minutes. There were six members missing, I don't know if they would have improved them or not. They were terrible. I was very glad that the mics weren't picking them up very well. I could hear one girl and one boy that could actually carry a tune, the rest sounded like my Mom. Tone deaf. Couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. Just....scratch your fingernails down a chalkboard horrendous! I was so embarrassed for them. It takes a lot of nerve to get in front of a crowd of people and sing when you sound so bad. I admired them for that, they kept plugging along. I'm going to have to get out an old video to see if my choir in high school was that terrible. Did we sound that bad and I didn't know it? We had about 25 people singing, they had 7. Makes a difference. Maybe I should ask my brother in law for an honest opinion. He was there. For EVERY SINGLE CONCERT. lol.

After the shabby performance by the choir was the high school concert band. They did okay. Especially for such a small band. There were only 4 clarinet players, 2 flutes, 4 trumpets, 1 tenor sax and 1 alto sax. I think there were 2 of 3 french horns. Then there was 1 bass clarinet and 1 tuba. But 5 trombones. I think there were 6 percusionists, also. They had to switch out playing different things and there was always 2 people sitting out on each song. And that was it.
Pretty small band, but they did alright for such a size. I don't care much for the band director. She's pretty showy and bows to the crowd between each song. Theatrics are very high on her list of priorities and I think she'd be a great drama teacher if Wyandotte would offer such a class. The highlight of the evening was the displaying of one of our very own prodigies. Fiddlin Jake (AKA Jake Simpson) got to be spotlighted and that was very cool. The director's mother is a composer and the band booster raised enough money to commission a song that included fiddle in a concert band piece. It was called "Jake's Breakdown" and it was very good, actually.

Jake has been playing the fiddle since he was a little bitty guy, and quite well, I might add. I don't remember hearing him screech that thing, ever. He's now reached the age of the high school band and he plays drums. But, they made a piece of music just for him so he could display his true talent. The fiddle. He's so good. I really think that boy's family could move him to Branson and he could support the whole family by just doing what he's good at. I hope that he does something with that talent instead of leaving it behind to pursue other interests like the rest of his musical family. The Simpsons are a very talented bunch. Music in their veins.

After the concert I went to get that pizza and they quit making pizza at 8:15 and I walked in at 8:20. Crap. I tore out of there hopping mad and drove to Seneca trying to decide what to do. Should I order a pizza there and wait 25 minutes for it, even though it's so late already? Should I go to the grocery store and buy something already made or something that could be put together real quickly? I tried calling Mike but got a busy signal. So, I opted for the grocery store option and got some sandwich things. I got home with it and when I told Mike he went and blew up on me. I was already on the edge of myself after the phone call with bad news and sitting through that concert, then missing the pizza by 5 minutes. When he started in on me about how he didn't want a sandwich (I'll spare you the details of the nasty words he used) I left my half way made sandwich and went outside on the back porch and cried and cried and cried. I cried for everything. I cried about the pizza, I cried about the bad news, I cried about the bitter disappointment this marriage is turning in to. I needed Mike so badly then. To come hold me and tell me everything was going to be okay. Instead, he came to the back door and opened it a crack and said "Just ignore me". When I had apologized for the sandwiches, he would say "It's fine. No big deal" but he'd say it in that way that meant it wasn't fine and it was a big deal. The big jerk. I wanted to punch him right in the face. Just ignore him. Like he was doing to me, I guess. By the time I came in, I had all but forgotten the pizza and the sandwiches, the concert was way out of my thoughts. But the bad news was weighing heavy on my heart and I wanted someone that I could talk to about it. I came in and finished fixing my sandwich, I sat down to eat it and I kept choking up and it felt like the bite of food that was in my mouth would turn to saw dust. Mike looked over at me and hollered "I told you to forget about it, it wasn't a big deal," (once again in that same tone that meant it still was a big deal to him). I felt like hollering back "You stupid jerk! It's not all about you!" but I didn't. That's one can of worms I did not want to open. No, instead I finished my sandwich (that was actually pretty good) then stepped over to him, got down on my knees and laid my head down on his belly and started crying again. He asked me what the matter was and I told him. I was expecting him to gather me up in his arms and hold me. Instead he gave me a couple pats on the back and acted like I was a stranger getting his shirt all wet with tears. Lord, I need my husband back! I know I've changed over the years, but have I changed so much that I'm a stranger to my own husband now? I need him, Lord. HELP!

Dream On

I had this dream the other night that left me embarrassed. I dreamed that in the middle of the night my best friend and her husband showed up at our house but didn't want to disturb us. So, they went to bed thinking they'd just see us in the morning. The thing is, they went to bed in my bed. Morning came and I got up, stark naked, and was walking around my bedroom. Lo and behold, there they were in my bed. Was I embarrassed about being naked in front of my best friend? A little, but she's seen me naked many times. Was I embarrassed about being naked in front of her husband? A little, he's never seen me naked (THANK GOD!). I have this vague recollection of putting my hands over my privates trying in vain to cover myself. But mostly what I was embarrassed about was the fact that it looked like an F-5 tornado had exploded in my bedroom. Clothes were tossed everywhere and there was dust on every surface. Kind of what it looks like in reality. I was only slightly embarrassed about being completely naked in front of my best friend and her husband but I was mortified about them seeing my room in such a state.

I'm pretty sore today from my visit to Helga's House of Pain yesterday. Hello drugs. You're the only thing that gets me through the days like today.

I'm Feeling Much Better Now

Does anybody remember Buddy from Night Court? Harry's Dad? That was his most common phrase..."But, I'm feeling much better now". That's how I feel today. I actually made it to work and lasted the whole day. Early this morning I took Shael to school, then went on to Miami. I was 45 minutes early for my appointment at the chiropractor so what would any 32 year old woman do? I went to Wal-Mart. I bought a bag of bagels, an apple, some loose leaf paper for Shael and some (please don't shoot me here Diva) scrapbook paper that was on clearance. I love paper. Even if I never use it, I think I would get just about as much enjoyment out of it by taking it out and looking at it, rubbing my hand over the textures, as if I actually used it.

I made it to my appointment 10 minutes early and they took me right in to a back room and had me lay on the basketball table again like the other day. Then the heating pad table. This time the heating pads were so dang hot, I think I'm going to look for burn marks before I go to bed tonight. I had to move them around a little bit because they were too hot. Then he shoved and pushed me around some more. When I asked him about my x-rays he told me they didn't reveal too much. Just one vertebrae in the lumbar region (#5, to be precise) was off but nothing serious, and nothing that a few treatments wouldn't adjust. I don't want to become a chiropractor addict. I've heard the more you go the more often you need to go. Whatever he did must've helped because I feel better. I only had to take one muscle relaxer today. I don't like taking any of those pills because one or all or some combination make me drop things and have "certain sexual side affects". Bummer.

It's time for me to go. My stomach is making the same exact noises that Lard Ass's stomach made right before he puked his guts up on Stand By Me. When you hear Lard Ass noises, you need to find a bathroom real quick. Guess I shouldn't have stopped eating the Bifidobacterium rich Dannon yogurt quite yet.

Bye.

Oh, yeah

I forgot, I was going to post a couple of pictures.

Here's my driveway, along next to my neighbor's. I think there was some dispute over property lines with the previous owners of our house and the previous owners of my neighbor's because when we first moved in there were fence posts between the two driveways. The neighbors who live there now moved in about 6 months after we moved in and he came along with his tractor and pulled out all those fence posts.

I love my long driveway. When the trees are leafed out you can't even see the road from our front yard.

There's also a picture of my favorite irises. They have a very pungent smell. Kind of like honeysuckle. They also bloom in the fall, very uncommon for an iris.

L-E-T-S-G-O Let's Go! Let's Go!

Sorry, just the cheerleader in me coming out again. Well, I feel a little bit more with it than I did earlier when I posted. Still a little spongy between the ears, but better. My back has popped several times with the slightest movement and it's actually feeling better, too. Maybe that sadistic twerp from Helga's House Of Pain knew what he was doing after all.

I slept most of the afternoon away, getting in the most comfortable position I could find. The only times I woke up was when the phone rang. The first time it was my mother wanting to know if I wanted the Angel Food or not. It's this program where you can get a whole bunch of food for $25 and it's all new food, not second hand, dented in cans and such. I've never done it because frankly I've felt that we just don't eat the kind of food they offer. Like breaded chicken tenders and boxed dinners. Hot Pockets, frozen desserts and french fries. But, this time they were offering skinless chicken breasts, pork tenderloin, and chicken leg quarters. All things which we do eat, so I went ahead and ordered it. The only other thing I remember is a can of soup. We'll see if it's worth it.

The second time the phone rang it was Mike. I can't quite remember what he wanted. I think he was just checking in on me to ask how I was feeling. He picked his bike up on his way home from work then drove Shael home on it and took off again on his own. There's an 80% chance of rain tonight so I told him not to stray too far. The last two times he's gone out on the bike, it has rained on him. Poetic justice for me because both times I wanted to go with him but he wouldn't wait on me.

After Mike called, I felt a little more alert so I sat up in bed and read for a little bit. When I heard him get home with Shael I went outside to greet them. It felt so nice out, so calm and warm. I decided I'd take a little walk around the yard and up and down the driveway a bit to maybe work out some of those stiff muscles. I ended up grabbing my camera and taking a few pictures of things I love about this place. Like our long driveway and the red honeysuckle bush that attracts all sorts of butterflies and hummingbirds. Some of my flowers that I've planted and some that were already here when I got here. The blackberries that I plan on making me some extra cash this summer. Last year I gave about 6 gallons of them away and kept a half gallon myself. Only for the person who I gave them to to have her freezer go out and lost every one of the berries. It broke my heart to think of all those SIX GALLONS of berries I so lovingly watered each and every day to coax them into maximum size and sweetness ruined by a broke down deep freeze. Not this year. I've already started watering them, until the rain started, but I'm keeping an eye on them and they are bursting with blooms, which will turn into berries. Some of them are already starting to grow little hard green nubs. Last year they were huge berries, like two inches long and 2-1/2 inches in circumference. I love taking care of them and even love picking them amid all the prickly thorns and mosquitoes. I pick them early in the morning before the dew even has time to dry. That's pretty early in July. But this year instead of giving them away, I'm going to sell them by the quart. I think that I can use my Mom's beauty shop as an avenue of selling them.

I just got back from getting on to the neighbor girl for throwing rocks at Shael. This isn't the first time this has happened. But, this is the first time I've gone at actually scolded the girl. She was scared to death of me and I felt kind of weird being the mean lady next door. But I have had it with her! She's about 8 years old, heck, way old enough to know better than to throw rocks at people. One hit Shael right in the boob and she came in the house crying her eyes out. Owie. That had to hurt. Shael said they were down the hill and I wouldn't catch them on foot, so I got in my car and took off. Boy, they (she was with another kid who looked to be about Shael's age but is really 15) were making tracks, they knew that if I caught up to them they'd had it. Oh, yeah, I drove my car right up behind them, then pulled out around them and stopped right in front of them so they had to stop or go around me. The boy was trying to go around me and the girl was thinking about it until I flew out of my car (as fast as my back would allow me) and called out her name. Her eyes were huge and she was mostly scared I was going to call her Grandma Dean and tell on her. You know what her defense was? "I wasn't throwing them as hard as I could!" I couldn't believe she just said that. I told her she shouldn't even be throwing them at all, no matter how hard. Not at people, anyway. Intentionally at people. Little brat. And that boy definitely should know better at FIFTEEN FRIGGIN YEARS OLD! I told her if it happened again I was going to come over and switch her myself, then I was going to call her Grandma Dean and her Dad. Oooh, the fear in her eyes. I didn't even look at the boy, so I don't know what his reaction to me was. Not a very good first impression of me, but I don't care. He is living with the girl's Grandma Dean for I don't know how long. It's not even really her Grandma. At least her Grandma Dean knows me well enough to know that I'm not some mean old nasty lady next door who over protects her tattle tale daughter. I don't know how many times Shael has come home crying because this little girl has done something intentionally mean to hurt her. Shael never does anything to defend herself because #1. she feels that since the little girl is younger than her she can't do anything to her, and #2 she doesn't have a mean bone in her body and would never do anything to anybody even in self defense. She would just take it and go home crying. Bless her heart, she gets that from me. So, because of that, she always gets bullied, even by kids younger than her. Which infuriates me! I detest a bully. I think that's why Shael prefers the company of small children than kids closer to her own age because she will always let others walk all over her. I sometimes wish she had a little bit more of her Daddy in her where that is concerned. The one thing about parenting that Mike and I never agreed on was the fact of taking up for one's self and fighting. I never wanted my kid's to fight, because I was afraid that they would be the one to throw the first punch. Mike wanted his kids to know how to take up for themselves. I guess we don't have to worry about it with Shael, she wouldn't throw the second punch. She'd just take it and take it and take it. Sometimes I'm glad we only could have one child. The second one might have come out a scrapper like it's Daddy (or even worse, like his Uncle Chevy! lol) and then where would I be?

I'm off here to go start supper. I wanted to wait a while so the chicken breasts wouldn't be dry as cardboard when Mike got home. The last time I made them, Mike and I got involved in a quickie that lasted a little longer than I expected and the chicken breasts got so over cooked they were so dry I could hardly swallow them. Ha! Won't have to worry about that this time, now will I?

Am I High?

I've never smoked pot or crack or done any other kind of drugs, so I don't know if what I'm feeling is what I think I'm feeling. My back went out on me again yesterday. This time, I'm armed with insurance so I took off work and went to a chiropractor. He basically twisted me and shoved me around and almost made me cry. He took some x-rays and told me to come back in two days and he'd better know how to help me by then because he'd have the x-rays back.
When I first got there they put me on this narrow table and then she turned it on and it felt like a basketball was being rolled up and down my spine. I thought I'd cry then, too, but I finally got use to it. When that went off, they told me to lay on my stomach on a different table and he put this 10 lb hot blanket thingie on my back. I was starting to sweat, my armpits were getting all itchy and I had sweat running down my back when the doc came back in. He took the blanket off and ran a vibrating thing down my spine about 5 or 6 times. He then rubbed around the edges of my spine for about 10 seconds then proceeded to twist and shove on me. I felt I had somehow made a mistake and walked into Helga's House of Pain instead of a chiropractor's office. He kept saying "Wow, you are stiff," and "Man, you are so ridged I'm having a hard time, here," and "Gosh, I don't think I've ever felt anybody so stiff before. It's going to take quite a bit to get you aligned. You just aren't pliable at all". That's not something you want to hear as you are being bent like a pretzel. I'd never been to a chiropractor before, so this was all new to me. When he got done twisting me, he had me get up and sit in a chair and he twisted my head and it sounded like an amateur 21 gun salute. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! He rubbed my shoulders a bit then did it the other way. I thought for sure since it cracked so much one direction that it SURELY wouldn't crack so much the other direction. I was wrong and don't call me Shirley. Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! The whole time he was doing this to my neck he was telling me what the lady at the desk had already told me. That my insurance was paying for it all and I wouldn't have to pay a cent. "How does that sound?" he asked me. "A whole lot better than my neck just did, GOOD GOLLY!" I think he was telling me this just to get my mind off the fact that it sounded (and looked) like he was trying break my neck. I've seen that stunt done on movies and the people always fall over dead immediately.

But, I lived to tell about it. I have to go back tomorrow, as I already mentioned. Hopefully, he can do something for me. Right now, I'm taking pain meds that I had left over from the last time this happened. I couldn't find my Tylenol-3 (with codeine) last night so Mike gave me a hydrocodone. Well that completely knocked me for a loop. I slept pretty good all night. Not before I was sitting on the bed telling Mike I felt weird. He asked me what kind of weird and all I could compare it to was drunk. But not quite the same. Since I've only been drunk once in my life, and it was accompanied with the feeling you get 5 minutes before you puke. (Maybe if I hadn't drank the whole bottle of Wild Turkey with honey by myself I wouldn't have gotten so sick, but man it tasted so good!) I got up to go pee and while I was in there Mike had turned all the lights off to go to bed. Walking in the dark was a little tricky, but I think I was doing okay until Mike started turning this flashlight on and off like a strobe light. Then I started stumbling around trying to make it to the bed before I fell down and hurt myself some other way. Oh, the laugh Mike got out of that. He finally turned the flashlight off for good and said, while he was still laughing, "Get in bed, you drunk, before I have to pick you up off the floor and pour you into bed myself". I finally made it to bed and I was out as soon as I got comfortable.

I went to work this morning, but couldn't make it through the morning, even. I only had one baby, and she's on the verge of stepping up into the toddlers, so I sent her on to the toddler class and came home. I was there an hour and 38 minutes. So, I came home and changed into my house dress and climbed into bed. And hour later I got up and fixed myself some tea and lunch and noticed while I was waiting on my tea to steep that I couldn't even stand without swaying. I sat down and got on the computer and I can't even seem to stop swaying while I'm sitting down. So, I'm getting off here now. Because I think I am high. High on meds that were prescribed to me. Legal meds. I don't like this feeling, so there's no fear of me becoming an addict. My back is feeling much better right now, that's the only good thing about feeling this way. It's 1:30 in the afternoon....Good Night!