Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Selfish thoughts abound....

Tonight's Life Skills class will feature a speaker... a college admissions specialist.

Or rather fresh meat for the loveables.

My co-worker set it up and frankly I've been stressing just a tad about how this is going to pan out.

It doesn't take a rocket surgeon to know that not all people are college material.

Many of my loveables probably won't go to college, many won't live their life on the good side of the law for long enough to pursue an education.

Lets call a spade a spade.

I truly am often the best cheerleader the loveables have, and while I do like (and am prone to) spending an inordinate amount of time lulling about in dipsy la la land, sometimes I do have moments and flashes of total and extreme brilliance (if I do say so myself)...

And today, concerning this class, the brain scientist inside me screams "we're (potentially) screwed".

At best, I envision the thugs with their heads down on the desks sleeping "her" off.

At best, I imagine expressionless mugs and shark eyed stare off(s) when she asks "any questions?".

(non acknowledgement may be best, trust me on this one)

I've been told that I am too easy on the loveables and that I spoil them (when not an ounce of spoiling has been earned or deserved).

I'm figuring the general consensus will (once again) sway that way when I come in today arms loaded with popcorn, candy and MickyD's gift card(s) for tonight's class.

What "they" just don't get is that I am soooo not thinking of the loveables when I do the things I do.

With fists full of popcorn and non perils to shove in their pie holes the lovables won't be sleeping and they also won't be offering opinions about anything.

At least not whilst the presenter is presenting.

The cards are bribes for later...along with a gentle sprinkling of guidance the loveables will be given slips of paper, for each relevant question asked, they get one entry into a drawing for the Micky D cards.

The more questions, the more entries.

Of course the loveables will be brought up on game before the speaker arrives so she will be led to believe she is speaking to a grateful group of socialized animals nice teens.

Fake it till you make it, I always say.

The whole plan...absolute brilliance, if you ask me.

Proactivity breeds success.

Not everyone is college material... but we can all pretend that we are for 90 minutes.

Wish me well....

PS...edited to add, If in my wildest, most hopeful dream(s) concerning my loveable thugs that one (or good grief!! more than one) would truly gather some interest and information about a future college education, take it and run with it... I would have certain, beyond a doubt proof, that God does indeed answers prayers.


Thursday, January 26, 2012

The future of Alice...

I've been dying to tell you all about my latest Life Skills class.

How the boys (?), the one's large as California Coastal Redwoods, almost made me lose my mind.

How they pushed every button and tweaked every raw nerve I had to offer.

Then dug deeper to find even more.

I wanted to tell you how they came in reeking of marijuana and then blamed it on one's dad (he be burnin a blunt in da car, yo).

And while I would be on the subject of these smelly Redwood trees I would tell you how they intimidated all the other youth,

and the co-facilitator of this class.

I'd be withholding information if I also didn't mention that they intimidated me too.

And that, in and of itself, really, totally, and sin-cere-ly pissed me the eff off.

(I have underwear older than these punks)

(the small pretty ones, the ones that aren't classified "granny panties" the ones I keep hoping to fit back into someway, somehow, someday)

(Horders uuuuu-nite, just sayin)

If I were telling you all about my latest Life Skills class I would tell you how when we walked down the hallway the big boys got into the old man janitor's face,

and I would tell you that I ran up front and got into the Redwood's face...

I would say that except there was no chair (on which I could stand) in the hallway...so I was really pretty much yelling into his bellybutton..

which, much like the cavernous abyss that is his head, didn't appear to have ears.

Ohh, well.

So if I were to go on and on about the cluster doink that was our latest Life Skills class I would rat out on the boys for stealing ice cream from the fridge.

Another program's ice cream.

We frown on behavior like that.

Yep, while I was out of the room, and my co-worker was fooling around with the other thugs these cloud scrapers were scavenging through drawers in search of spoons to put in a previously unopened (HUGE) carton of ice cream ( I probably, in order to really bring home the point, would reiterate that it was someone else's ice cream).

IOW (inotherwords) it be someone else's shit..keep your mo fo hands off..

If I were telling that story I would certainly end it with the information that an email was sent from me to my superiors (at 10pm) indicating that these children would not be allowed to continue (something about over my dead body) in my Life Skills classes.

I would also recall using the term "feral animals..."

(ohh yes I did)

I would hope my little tale would end with a pop, a bang, a climax if you wish...

but like many a good story, it would have a bittersweet ending.

While turning the ice cream container around (for picture evidence, yo) it was discovered (teeeeeeee-heeeeeee) that while the ice cream belonged to another program it apparently had been left in this community fridge for quite some time...

like for nearly a year.

Close to a year ago the printing on the side of the container cried in warning "EXPIRES 3/01/11".

Some Hershey (SQUIRTS) with your ice cream boys, Y-oooooo.

This girl does dream.

The title of this post, The future of Alice... did it have you scratching yer noggin?

(Random Post Idea Generator... I was looking for an amazing thing to write about since I didn't want to write about my latest Life Skills class)

I wish you smiles aplenty today...

Monday, January 23, 2012

Told you so.....

About a year after Daddio and I started our decades long love affair he began talking about a time when he would get his own apartment.

The longer we were together (mortgage, kid, chaos, nother kid, chaos, nother kid) the more he spoke about getting that apartment.

"Buddy, when you get done paying me all the child support and alimony any in their right mind Judge would award me, you won't have jack poo to pay for an apartment..."

"and besides, you can't live without me"

"I'm certainly willing to give it a try" he usually replies.

This past weekend Daddio and a coworker (male, you dirty minded people) had to go out of town for a work training.

I tried to prepare him best I could as they were leaving straight after work Friday evening.

"How bout I pack you guys a couple of bags of chips and some pop to have on the road" I offered.

"Nah, we can stop at a gas station on the way" he responded.

"You probably should pack a fan, you know how those hotel heaters are ".... I cautioned, imagining him burning up.

"You worry too much" he says, annoyed.

"I may not come home you know" he says (and then adds, "I mean it").

The dozens of other warnings I issue serve only to annoy him further.

Do you have enough money? Did you pack your phone charger? Shampoo? Picture of me? (tee-hee)

Do you know where you are going? What will you eat for dinner?

Do you have more than one pair of sweats...?

"WHY?"...he asks "I don't plan on shittin my pants".

"Okay then, but if you do, and remember, no one ever really plans to shit their pants, (that is why it's called an accident, d'oh) it's far better to be prepared."

(I gave it a rest because he was stink-eyin me and I value my real teeth)

Googie and Trouble were also out of town this weekend so when Daddio set off for his overnight adventure that left only poor Bear for me to mother.

And when he came home later that evening looking for warm clothes to go sledding my CMP (Compatible Management Programming... Random Buzz Phrase Generator using Bear's birth mo and date) went into high gear...

"You ride down on your butt, right?" I quizzed him.

"No Ma" he said crossing his arms across his broad chest " I stand up with my arms like this and toss myself down the front of the icy mountain"...

"Sometimes I go backwards, head first"....

"Wear two pairs of socks" I advise.

"I don't think we have any of those snow pants that will fit you" I say, wondering how it is that he will keep warm.

"I'm a grown ass man" he says "I don't wear snow pants anymore. And you're really getting old. Do you realize that last week you asked me seven times if I like cherry pie? I don't. Stop worrying"

"What does cherry pie have to do with you taking a head first tumble off the sled and becoming paralyzed? Or freezing to death because you didn't wear proper clothing?"

In spite of the fact that he is a grown ass man when he heads out the door I say a prayer that he lands softly on his long-john'd padded butt and not on his hard head.

With no one else to take care of I call to check on Daddio and he reports that they are fine and have made their destination and will soon be in pursuit of a good, hot meal.

"Hey, you shouldn't drink while you're out and about in that strange town. You could get lost or robbed or murdered"...

(What would they do w/o me...?)

I call Daddio a second time to say goodnight, he sounds sleepy and says he's turning in early.

The following afternoon when I talk to him he is done with the training and on his way home.

"I didn't want to tell you this" he says when I ask him how things went "Tom didn't come with me, I'm alone".

"The hotel was in the middle of nowhere. I haven't eaten since yesterday, the hotel restaurant is only open for 4 hours a day and I missed it. All the vending machines were empty. In the middle of the night, after being woken up every hour on the hour due to the small animals in the room next door I decided to go to my car and rummage my lunch box and found (thank God) a Rice Krispy Treat. I didn't get any sleep, the hotel heater kept going on and off..it was terrible".

"I should have brought a fan" he said.

"And you should have let me pack you some food" I added.

"Well" I said soothingly "at least you didn't shit your pants".

I was at the grocery store when he got home, he got a bite of food and crawled into our cozy bed.

He was snoozing when I returned.

Feeling like we'd just survived a Wife Swap episode I ran and jumped on him and gave him a big kiss..

"You look prettier than I remember" he said sleepily.

That poor man, he must have had some trip.

When he got up you can best believe that I did indeed take my God granted golden opportunity to remind him again how horrible it would be to be in his own place, with no one to take good care of him "no food, no sleep, no sex" I said.... WAIT A MINUTE...you didn't get a hooker, did you?

"How bout a porno... Did you rent a porno movie at that hotel ?"

"A porno would show up on your receipt"

"You did remember to get a receipt...? "

There really is no place like home....

On a side note... Bear made it home in one piece. Googie and Trouble made it home too. And my granddog's mum sent me an email...

"Thanks for having me" said this one

 "Happy to be home" said the other

Friday, January 20, 2012


When Bear was two days old he stopped breathing,

once at home and two more times in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.

The EMS crew were able to resuscitate him while I sat near and watched in horror.

We got him to the hospital and there his throat and airway was cleared of the excess mucus that seemed to plague him since his birth.

When he was finally released from the hospital I took him home and didn't take my eyes off him (morning, noon and night) for two days... when I did finally sleep it was with one eye open...this went on for a long, long time.

I replayed often the scene where I was nursing him, putting him up on my shoulder to burp and the feeling of him stiffening in my arms.

I saw over and over and over how he looked when I pulled him from me and turned him around.

How his eyes bugged and his mouth gaped.

And his skin turned bluer and bluer...

I remembered shaking him and screaming for his dad.

and how we called for help.... how lucky we were that the help was only two short blocks away in the form of a fully staffed fire house.

We waited for what seemed like an hour for EMS to show up, records later showed it was less than two minutes after my call.

The dispatcher stayed on the line with me and in a reassuring voice told me over and over "they are on their way, hang on honey, they are right up the street, hang on, they are on your porch, open the door..."

In between those words she told me to instruct Daddio how to help Bear breathe, how to keep him alive until the experts could arrive.

I screamed the details to Daddio who had Bear upside down, beating on his tiny back.

The very worst night of my life.

I remember the young man in his heavy, tan colored firefighting uniform rushing with my baby cradled in his arms hurrying toward the running rig, with me right behind him.

One of them boosted me up and into the ambulance by the seat of my pants...and onto a bench where I would watch them save Bear over and over.

I glanced out the window as we pulled away from our house, I saw Daddio running for the car and my neighbor Jean standing in the street, hands clasped in prayer, tears running down her face.

This morning this memory came back to me.

So intense that I almost vomited.

Fox2 News reported Venus Jester, a grandmother from Detroit, tried to do everything the dispatcher told her to do when her 2 month old granddaughter stopped breathing..

Help wasn't two blocks or 1.5 minutes away...

It took Detroit EMS TWENTY FIVE MINUTES to get to her home.

Of course, it was too late.

Baby Brielle couldn't be revived.

Detroit doesn't have enough ambulances to serve it's people.

Too many are in poor mechanical shape.

Too many need to be replaced.

Of course money is tight here in Detroit.

Chalk full of crooked, pocket filling politicians and county officials, county and city wide misuse and abuse of funds, half assed mechanics in charge of half assed repairs and an arm's long list of others who should be held accountable for the death of this child.

"I did all I could do" sobbed Brielle's grandmother.

I fantasize all kinds of horrible tortures befalling those responsible..  none though, could possibly be as bad as the twenty five minute wait must have been for a mother and grandmother forced to wait and sit by helplessly all alone and unable to help... as their baby girl died.

Please remember them in your prayers.

On a side note, no fault is placed or should be placed on the shoulders of the Detroit EMS team... they do the best they can do with what they have to work with.

Please also remember them in prayer... I can't imagine how they must suffer as well.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

When all you can do is dance...

The other day I wrote about a new assignment I'd been given at work... teaching life skills, its something I've always done, however, this go around has my class looking very different.

I normally run a fun cooking class...this time the class must cover other life skills topics.

New County requirements have adjudicated youth attending at least one class, at all times, the entire length of their probation.

I wrote that the whole thing could be classified as a bona fiide cluster flup... and I've not changed that opinion.

The little tantrum that I threw the other day (and wrote about here) was for naught....

My twenty loveables turned out to be in reality divided by five which equals four in attendance for the first class.

Three females and one male... made up a nice, manageable group.

Yesterday, the same four showed up.

And appeared interested in the topic, which was financial in nature.

The man who co-facilitates the class was a great student, intelligent and engaged, respectful and interested... about as far away from our clients as Neptune is to the Earth..

maybe even further.

I, on the other hand, was a suck ass student.... I required a different learning environment/teaching style in order to stay focused, interested.

In other words... he and I buck ideas as to how best to run the class.

And he totally doesn't get how much I really understand their pain.

My co-worker and I were moving along swimmingly (I love that vision) with the four (semi) interested loveables when a knock at the door ushered in three more.

All guys... big, sky scrapers that swaggered like Godzilla (to keep da pants up yo) when they walked.

My first thought...let the ass sniffin commence.

In the Who's Who of the lovable thug world position means everything... with each and every new male (especially) addition there comes another jockeying of position...

"Who" can be the most disrespectful to the teacher?

"Who" can score a female's phone number the fastest?

"Who" can get their azz kicked out of class first?

When the first words out of one of their mouths is "I ain't doin fuck" that about sums up the interest they had in our class.

I consider myself a "think on the fly" sort of person and so when they wouldn't even take the cap off their pens to write their names on their papers the bull crap started to flow from my lips..

"You all understand that you are required by the County (the court) to attend a class like this one, right?..

I get that you don't want to be here, I understand, truly I do... "

"but what I'd like for you to understand is this, your Probation Officer has to prove to the Judge that you are here and have been making a concentrated effort to learn and understand what it is that we are feeding you here...get it?"

"those papers, the ones in front of you, yes those right there... they need to have something on them, something more than your name...they are going to court with you, they may be stapled to your court report... understand?"

"The questions need to be answered properly... I wouldn't put something I wouldn't want my Judge to see... hopefully, you will make an effort to show that you respectfully followed my directions and are learning something in this court ordered class..."

They quietly filled in the blanks.

While I quietly fist bumped myself under the table.

My co-facilitator was not happy with me that I let them off easy w/o doing an additional three pages of budgeting worksheets...

Baby steps my friend, baby steps.

“I get up.
I walk.
I fall down.
Meanwhile, I keep dancing.”
~Daniel Hillel

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Total Organizational Projection (TOP)

This weekend was to be devoted to some (direly needed) cleaning and reorganizing of the Koby LaCasa... (La Casa Koby...?)

The plan was to spend all kinds of hours corralling items to send for donation, and even more hours finding places for all the items I bought from someone else's donation(s)...

Daddio (poor and long suffering) had been heard muttering (AGAIN) under his breath something about (yet another) Horders, Buried Alive episode..

He's not alone in his thinking, and frankly I too am beginning to feel a bit suffocated by all my junk.

I'd been thinking about how much I could get done this weekend since we were off an extra day for MLK day.

Monday would be perfect as Daddio didn't have the day off and it's so much easier to work w/o him standing over my shoulder giving opinions about the value of my goods

"Its time to get rid of those deer antlers... "

"Who needs 7 rolling pins?"

"You don't need to bother disposing of these birth control pills properly, just dump em in the garbage, in 17 years I'm quite sure they've lost their potency"...

you get the drift...

For weeks I'd been playing and replaying the scenario in my mind of all the purging I was planning on doing.

Just even imagining it somehow made me feel lighter.

Googie called on Sunday afternoon "wanna go to the dentist with me tomorrow?"

"Sure, I don't have anything going" I replied.

"Maybe afterwards we can shop or hit the The Treasure Store (the Salvation Army store near my home)" I was giddy with excitement at the idea of a whole day spent with my best girl.

"there was something I wanted to do tomorrow" I told her " but at the moment it's escaped me.."

lets call it a date....

After the dentist we dined at Micky D's ... I got a cheeseburger w/o onions (that came w/o any condiments or cheese) and some salt free fries.

The burger was like eating a vacuum packed, light brown colored tumble weed.

We were on the freeway before I realized that we forgot to get a drink.

"I really seriously need a drink" I coughed out "this hamburger powder is ready to make me choke"...

"We'll be somewhere soon mom where we can get something to drink" Googie assured me.

The girl and I threw down some steps at the mall, we hit every store we ever thought of hitting and then some.

Walking past a small kiosk in the mall, a miniature gentleman waved us over.

Googie stiffened while I momentarily let down my guard and soon found my palm up and full of the shit he was selling.

He had a deep accent, was kinda cute and totally unthreatening, pretty much like the Wolf dressed as Little Red Riding Hood....

Goog's body language screamed "not interested"

We laughed out loud at his (not so smooth) salesman talk when he referred to me as "her sister"....

Goog and I had some fun with the guy and when he said his product was all natural and could not ever (under any circumstances) (never in a million years) cause a rash I had to ask him about poison ivy and it's natural-ness.

He wasn't amused, then offered a bologna-filled gush to counter my attack.

Still not convinced I had to ask..."If it is all natural, what is the smell?"

"It's hairball".. he answered

"HAIR BALL...???" I asked

"What the heck is hairball?"

Googie almost pissed herself... "he said Herbal" she said, biting the sides of her mouth to stop from cackling.

"Ohhhh, herbal" I said "I thought you said hairball and a hair ball would certainly be all natural, I guess".

He got so shook up he forgot about me being Goog's sister.

"Here, mom, sit here"... he pointed toward a chair.

"I'm her sister" I reminded him, shaking my head no and bull-crapping him back I said, "we'll be back later if I don't get a rash or hives."

"Geeze that was close" I told Goog as we narrowly escaped more of his sales pitch.

When we got back into the car and onto another freeway I remembered how thirsty I still was and I managed a weak "Googie....H2O...pleeeeeeease"...

We forgot about the drink when we saw a store called The Great Indoors and I also forgot all about my New Years Day resolution not to spend money on unnecessary home goods..

I didn't buy anything that wasn't a total necessity (Yankee tealights on clearance...come on now).

Back in the car and on to another adventure... when I remembered the water (or rather lack of)

"GOOGIE....I. need. some. AGUA, some water, some H2O..?" I was forced to gasp when Googie eye's couldn't leave the road to read my parched lips.

"Could you spit in my mouth...?" I begged.

"Ikea has water mom" Goog said " hang in there"....

The trumpets sounding when we entered IKEA had me forgetting all about my dehydrated self and I started looking for more necessities.

4 dessert plates qualified.

So did some neat kitchen towels with loops (to better hang from your apron strings, my dears)....

At the self checkout Googie placed her necessities on the scanner and I, not noticing, placed my dishes right on top of her stuff... all of a sudden, her stuff didn't seem all that steady and my dishes started to slide...

slo-mo like they slid toward the ground...

Googie Beckham tried to deflect them off her ankle bone.

The crash was heard round the store.

I stood red faced and feeling ancient (while I dug through my change purse looking for pennies to use to pay for my purchase all the while trying to act like it wasn't me that made all the noise)...

Beckham ran to get a replacement set and was back in minutes flat.

On our way out Googie pointed to an area where they sell water.

And vanilla cones.

Which worked just as good as water to quench my thirst.

We got home in time for me to half-ass tidy the kitchen and toss some slop in a pot for dinner.

"How long were you gone?" Daddio said looking around his palace for some evidence of purging progress.

"Nine hours...!!!????" He said when I told him.

"Yeah, the dentist office was packed" I explained.

(When trying to come up with a post title I thought to access the Acronym finder Random Systematic Buzz Phrase Projector, I put in today's date 1-17 and viola TOP... Total Organizational Projection popped up... I had to laugh at the irony... Total Organizational Projection which today turned out to not be jack-shit, unless you count the candles, which I hid stashed  organized in the top cupboard behind my new plates)

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Making sense of it all....

I'm currently having a serious love affair with my L'Oreal Voluminous Million Lashes mascara... at least I was until I mistakenly brought home the wrong one.

I noticed something was a bit different when I saw an azure colored band running down the side of the tube where the writing goes...hmmm, I thought, my true love, appears to have changed, something doesn't seem quite right.

How right I was... after a few days in a row of wearing the stuff I realized that I was getting a pretty big pile up on my lashes, so much so that each individual lash had a weight attached to it.

I tried to separate the lashes with a pin (and old 70's trick we Maybelline Great Lash wearers know all about)... I pulled so hard trying to remove the black chunks off of the lashes that there were some fatalities (not to mention a few bare spots on my eyelids)...

During an ah-ha moment (tee-hee) I came to the conclusion that I must have bought waterproof, which in the mascara world means it has now become a body part...

I bought another tube (this time the right stuff), and we've been goin hot and heavy ever since.

Yesterday, while running late getting ready to go to the Mill I was forced to use the waterproof one when the other had totally disappeared from my makeup bag...

I had no one to blame but the dog for the missing mascara...(Daddio threatened a bust to the chops if I blamed he or Bear for the theft)

Anyway, I used the waterproof crap thinking one day probably wouldn't hurt.

At work a few hours later...a new assignment ( a cluster you know what) had me pretty much up in arms when it came to my attention (via a peon (piss-on) like myself) that I was getting a load of 20 loveables in my evening Life Skills class..

20 lovables.

Shall I throw myself in a fire pit, now?

Or do I wait and be eaten alive one bite at a time?

Or should I just sit on a red hot poker?

About 4 of the 20 loveables have a history with the co-facilitator.

In nicer words they hate each other's bloody azz guts.

So in real reality (tee-hee) those 4 lovables have the potential to multiply and infect the whole bunch with a virus of bad attitude and disrespect.

When the word came down about the 20 loveables in one class with ONLY two (as in 2) staff I instantly went into flight mode, I felt my face flame and my ears start to burn and I did what any other middle aged mental-pause(al) woman would do... I started pulling out my hair, I slid my lipstick sideways on my mouth and I let the snot drip from nose...and then, I went in search of my supervisor.

When he was nowhere to be found I went in search of his supervisor.

His "In A Meeting, DO NOT DISTURB" sign was hanging... , I peeked one bulging, bloodshot eye in the small window and could see he was clearly in a meeting.

A moment (short lived, I should add) of sanity had me having second thoughts of dramatically barging into his office and babbling incoherently my displeasure at my being chosen the human sacrifice of the day.

Since he was clearly tied up I did the next best thing...

I ran into my office and yanked out my computer and typed up an email that will probably haunt me all the rest of my days.

Especially when one second after my battle cry "I AM MENTAL-PAUSE(al) WOMAN HEAR ME ROOARRRRRR" I hit the send button.

After that I didn't know whether to shit or go blind.

And although I really wanted to burst into tears and sob a tale of woe so sad that the whole world would wrap me up in their arms and protect me from my big bad job (and my fire breathing dragon boss' who were guaranteed to be wanting to kick my middle-aged ass after they got their eyeballs burned out reading their inbox gift from me).

I got in my work van and drove across the street to Sam's Club... (they have a really large parking lot).

There I let it go.

I cried those big gulping sobbing sobs, my nose ran and my mouth grimaced and I'm sure I was quite the sight to see for those men (waiting on shopping wives) sitting in the cars around me.

I called every soft place to fall I know... all except for Daddio and Marmie.

Daddio would have been on the first train to my location, ready and willing to kick ass, and Marmie would have been sleeping and being a mother myself I know the worst thing you can do to your mother is wake her up with a hysterical phone call.

After nearly an hour I'd run outta tears and time and knew I had to go back.

I put my hair back up into my plastic holder and gathered the huge pile of heavy tissues that littered the van.

Then I pulled down the mirror to access the damage.

HOLY SHIT... if you could look past the dead shark eyes, I didn't look half bad.

And HOT DAMN!!! I still had eyelashes.

My extra-mascara-til affair had reaped an unexpectedly huge benefit.

My glass is half full, always.

I just need a little reminder of that every now and then.  

Thank you for the visit and for listening.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Atop a fence post.... pt deux

If you happen to happen upon this blog (this one here, the one you are reading right here, right now, yeah, this one, it you happen to happen upon this blog you may need to read this post right here to understand what I'm talking about in this post...you dig?)

The whole fundraiser deal was a lot like pregnancy and giving birth.... at first we suffered through the "It won't be so hard" and "I'm so excited, this is going to be great" to "what in the hell have we done to ourselves?"....

The what in the hell have we done to ourselves was the stage that lasted the longest, was the most painful...and also the most profitable.

During the transitional phase (the hard labor) of the process I found myself leaning on Marmie for lots of tips and pointers.

"Don't be afraid to be specific in your requests" she guided "ask for what you need."

"Don't just say "can you donate", say "I'm looking for 16 bundles of pipe cleaners, can you help me out?"

I took her advice to heart and grew me some big ballzs and decided nothing ventured, nothing gained..

"I've got 25 bucks and I need 20# of ground round" I told the owner of my favorite meat market "is there something you can do?"

I tried not to dance and hoot and holler when she took a huge hunk of beef from the showcase and took it in the back...

Marmie was right.... "ask, and you shall receive"

I was high as a kite, riding on asking and receiving, when I went to Kroger (you may recall them as the grocery store that does not donate to "regular people" or "people who just walk in off the street asking for stuff") to follow up on my written (and supposedly faxed) donation request...

I'd been following up for days (and really counting on a donation) and was getting nowhere and so on the day of the fundraiser when it was a mere few hours from starting I found myself face to face with the manager of my local Kroger...

The Brownstown Michigan Kroger Head Store Manager Cindy was as pleasant as a bleeding hemorrhoid.

As kind and understanding as an ingrown hair.

As giving as an abscessed tooth.

Seriously she was all that and more.

"We don't just give to every person who walks in off the street asking" she hissed "there are people who walk in here everyday wanting stuff"....

(Ohhhh the nerve of those rotten needy bastards...)

"We don't give to "regular people" she condescendingly added.

"You have to be representing lots of people in order to get a donation here"....

She continued her verbal and emotional assault on me until my eyes welled with tears and when she snapped (for the fifth time) "WHO IS "THEY"????? " when I referenced the people I'd previously talked to at her service desk, who when I originally asked for help THE ONES THAT handed me a Donation Request Form and then gave me directions as to how to fill it in and what it needed to have attached and where it needed to be submitted...and all that jazz... THEY, THEM,THOSE people... that right. there. (evil Miss)...them there is who THEY is/are...(dumb ass)

(don't get it?... I feel ya, that exchange above is exactly how my mind was processing what I was hearing)

When her pleasantries were all done she walked away in a huff and left me embarrassed and humiliated and wanting to crawl back into the hole (the hole she just knew) that I'd crawled out of (and yes, I do know that I just said the same thing three damn times, but that is how bad I felt and this is, after all, my blog and I can say stupid stuff like that to describe how I was feeling after being incredibly humiliated and embarrassed by Cindy the Manager of the Brownstown MI Kroger store for having the nerve to walk in off the street and ask her to donate, in her grocery store's name, to a personal fundraiser for a (one, single, solitary, all alone) person (one tiny very sweet person) who is fighting the fight of her life against a dreadful disease...)

(After dealing with the likes of me and brushing me off with a limp hand pump...I'm sure she went to wash me (the delusional beggar) off her hands...(yuck)

A cashier standing next to the register near where I was talking with charming Cindy heard the whole exchange.

Her eyes were filled with sympathy and she came over and apologized for her store's policy...(there was no apologizing for her baboon boss' boorish behavior)

She then took a small change purse out of her uniform pocket, took something out and pressed that something into my hand...

It was a twenty dollar bill...

"I hope this helps" she said.

"I usually don't have any big money in my purse, but...today I do, and I feel like God told me to give it to you, God bless you and your cause" she said patting my hand.

A bloody blooming red rose in the middle of December January.

"When all the world is a hopeless jumble and the raindrops tumble all around, Heaven opens a magic lane."

And just like t.h.a.t (cue the {s-nnnn-ap} my (Generous and Kind) Lord picked me up, dusted me off and sent me on my way.

Thank you kind cashier. 


PS... know the movie Ghost? The part when the bad guys die and they evaporate into a black vapor?... I've thought of that scene and Cindy a lot since my fateful encounter with her.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Atop a fence post....

Ever hear the saying "if you see a turtle on a fence post you know he didn't get there by himself"...?

One time I heard a very successful doctor say that and really liked the places it took my thoughts.

A year ago The Sweet Prince Buttercup's mother in law's irritable bowel disease diagnosis was renamed Pancreatic Cancer.

Stage III.

My son's wife (Mrs. Buttercup) and her mother are like Googie and I, connected at the hip, bestfriendsforever....

We are all beyond devastated by this war they are waging.

None so much as my daughter in law.

Some months back she started talking about fundraisers.

Specifically about a very successful fundraiser that had taken place in our little town.

"It raised $7000.00 !!!!" she told me, her voice hopeful and excited.

I remember thinking, the focus and subject of that fundraiser was a guy that everybody knew, and a whole nother group of every bodies knew his wife, and yet another huge gang knew his kids....

Of course they were able to raise all that flow.

And get a shitload of donations.

My daughter in law asked "do you think we could do something like that for my mom?"

(Not sure what you been smokin sister but that is one big ask you just asked...)

(Wise mother in law's don't say crap like that and so I didn't)

"Sure honey" I said instead "we can try".

Together we
Some idiot I came up with January 7th as a good date, needing to get Goog's wedding and Christmas passed before we could really begin to move forward toward a fundraising effort.

(Who in their right mind plans a fundraiser for two weeks after Christmas..? I asked myself that very same question daily)

The usual suspects were rounded up to help (and, as usual, they were asked to give the shirts off their back, give money, give time, give give give give give, donate a kidney, anyone?)...

I don't know if I could be my friend, there is a huge cost involved in knowing me... I ask a lot of "my people".. they seem to never tire of giving, donating, working, supporting, loving me (and my cause(s), which ultimately become their cause(s).

Our project began with little more than a few dollars and some really big ideas.

Many of which involved donations from the big box stores in our neighborhood.

I'm going to be honest here and say that each and every one of them disappointed me...

they disappointed me big time.

(Consistently profitable) Meijer, Kohls, Krogers.... not. a. one. of. them could agree to offer up more than a "Sorry, we don't donate to regular people"...

Sad though, since it's "regular people" (like us) that make you the profitable businesses that you are.

I guess it was a bit presumptuous on my (our) part to assume that they would be willing donate a small gift card or a couple of cans of Parmesan cheese...

Times are tuff...doncha know...

With that plan shot to hell we were forced to rely on personal donations and small family owned businesses around town.

Soon our red sauce had some meat (thank you JNS Meat Market xoxo), and our tables, small bouquets of flowers (thank you Trentwood Market xoxo).

We found ourselves a DJ (thank you Troy) to go along with a couple of hours of music donated by my own darling dear Daddio and his rockin Blues band (thank you Daddio, Andrew, Matt, Dave!! xoxo).

Suddenly we had several in-advance donations (thank you Dad and Sweetie and many others xoxo) which enabled us to buy own damn parm cheese.

For our bake sale I personally made enough cupcakes to feed a small country, (and then some) with a donation of frosting (thank you Margie's xoxo )... and a hand me down Kitchen Aid mixer.

To be continued....

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Eat more hot dogs....

A couple of weeks ago I began to notice that each morning when I tried to sneak out of bed w/o waking the sleeping bear (darling dear Daddio) my body would reach a certain point on the bed and my leg would cry out in a crack that would wake the dead... or a hibernating bear...

As I tip-toed downstairs toward the kitchen and my filling coffee pot my leg would continue talking announcing my presence to my slumbering watch dog, Jersey Girl.

Who'd then wake up and have all kinds of expectations starting with me rubbing her hairless pink belly and me taking her outside so that she could get an early start to her morning routine of barking at the dark.

That leg of mine was wrecking havoc with my morning routine and I wasn't liking it much.

A few days ago I ran to Kohls to exchange a nightgown Goog and Trouble bought me for Christmas...

Like usual, the racks of clearance merchandise grabbed me as I walked by and twisted my arm and made me browse them for deals.

I was next to a woman who was taking her browsing pretty seriously, she scooted right up next to me (oblivious to my personal space issue) and tried to hurry me with her hanger sliding....

zzzz-ip, zzzzz-ip, zzzzzz-ip...she slid the hangers of her rejects, one by one, getting closer and closer to me and forcing me to be continually placing my own required three feet of space between myself and all people I don't know.

I would give her the evil eye and try and stand my ground, but she was a woman on a mission and no slowpoke browser was going to get in her way.

I wanted to say something, but I didn't.

However, my leg took over and got into the act.

Each time I moved, it popped.

The same exact pop each time.

"zzzzzz-ip.....zzzzzzz-ip......zzzzzz-ip"  Ms MasterBrowser's hangers said.

"SNAP" my leg answered as I took a sidestep.




Eventually, I gave up and hobbled away with my snapping leg, which continued to snap with each step I took.

I tried to give my body a slightly different angle so that the popping would stop, nothing I did seemed to work.

Ever since then I've been fighting the urge to hit up Dr Google for advice or a diagnosis.

Even though I should know better, as I've been known to catch diseases and conditions that way.

This morning I caved and started the search for what is wrong with me.

I Googled "why do my bones keep cracking when I walk"...

And Dr Google said (and I kid you not)...

Q: why do my bones crack a lot?

A: go toe docter NOW! because you have Osteobonecrackingosis.

It has been scientifically proven that if you don''t eat a lot of pizza puffs and hotdogs you are more susceptible to this terrible disease that tends to only infect idiots.

So my question to you is, are you an idiot?

Start eating pizza puffs and hotdogs IMMEDIATELY and your bones will start feeling better. that happens before you die.

lol JK thats normal, my doctor told me i guess that''s normal but go ask a doctor that happens to me to...

i think its normal

webmd.com your bones cant... 


Osteobonecrackingosis..... I just knew it was something bad.

Monday, January 2, 2012

At a loss for words...

Looks like I (and this blog) may be in some deep shit.

I'll be counting on you, my non-commentors to help me think up some new verbiage to use when trying to express myself.

Michigan's Lake Superior State University published it's latest list of banished words and I must confess, the list looks like one of my blog posts.

How dare they take away my words, it reeks of censorship..

"She's sooooooo 2011" you'll probably think as you read my postings using the list of obsolete and over used words.

I want to be AWESOME folks, not passe.

I don't want to use the banned words and be considered in epic fail mode as I attempt to entertain and delight you with my thought provoking ramblings...

Not only entertain and delight I want to throw in a little of The Wow Factor... the wow factor here is important too and how do you portray the wow factor unless you say the wow factor..?

(wow factor is a no no)

And what about those ah-ha moments, I'm just sayin.

Time for me to man up BFF's and think up some new words... (which will probably find themselves deep six'd as next years banned from the English Language words...)

I did a bit of Internet searching (hopping, skipping, jumping) and happily can report that my TMO's (total transitional options) are many...

And my SIP (synchronized incremental projection) looks good.

Nothing like a little ITF (integrated transitional flexibility) when writing to make you feel in the cool, kwim?

So if you, like me, find yourself authoring a really AWESOME blog and running out of words that are relevant, new, full of excitement..and you wish to think up some new ones so that you sound fresh (not to mention smart as hell)... I've got a website for you (a buzz phrase generator, you simply type in a three digit number and they provide you with a cool new phrase... no one will  know what the hell you are talking about..but hey, what the hell is new, right)
I thank you in advance for continuing to read.

I was planning to sign off using one of my all time favorites....

Living life to the fullest... (banned, banned, banned)

Now they've really pissed me off.

(Random phrase generator found here)

Sunday, January 1, 2012

The gift....

of a another new year is upon us once again.

If you're reading this, you too have this gift.

Another chance to say what you've been meaning to say.

To do what you've been meaning to do.

Some food for thought,

Lost, yesterday, somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes. No reward is offered for they are gone forever ~ Horace Mann

My version...

Found today/tomorrow...somewhere between sunrise and sunset, two golden hours, each set with sixty diamond minutes...what are you waiting for?

One last thing, remember...

We cannot hold a torch to light another's path without brightening our own...

Happy New Year