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. 
xoxo

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.

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....

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.

"SNAP"

"SNAP"

"SNAP"

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... 

 

cant....cant...cant.....???

cant........????????????????????

 

MY BONES CAN'T WHAT....????

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

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)

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

xoxo.....

The Dutchess of Notadamnthing shares a Royal Review....

Daddio and I were spoiled rotten by our children this Christmas.

They gifted us with their presence and with a shit load of presents... it was awesome (and a bit embarrassing)...

I mean when the kids each get a couple of gifts and Daddio and I are nearly buried alive in packages..on a level or two it didn't feel right..

ohhh, eff dat crap, it felt utterly amazing.

Since becoming a Mrs. Goog has been telling me about the finer things in life, like really expensive sheets.

I feel about sheets like I feel about wrapping paper... total waste of flow.

Like a plastic store sack that is good enough to carry your cans and a loaf of bread so is a utility cotton cover for your mattress.

Daddio and I inherited some standard sized sheets (and some mismatched pillow cases) from Marmie when she moved.

And then at some point we were forced to purchase a set or two to go on our waterbed when we turned cool and bought one.

(Three pregnancies sleeping on a water bed, both a blessing and a curse... easy to sleep on my stomach, impossible to get out of)...

speaking of impossible to get out of, that king sized water bed was continually being filled not only with water but with children who woke scared in the middle of the night and slept-walked from the comfort of their own beds/cribs to climb in nice and cozy next to mom and dad..when we added the dog and cat to the mix Daddio was forced to cry "uncle" and the kids were told it was them or us...

in other words, Sir Daddio made a declaration that from here to forth no more rotten little fish outta water like sleep mates were to adorn our sleeping quarters...

A new (Queen sized, of course) bed was purchased and our offspring were offered a sleep mat on the floor to which they could flock should they be fearful of gargoyles or mean spirited ghosts and such in the middle of the night

(Evidence that the big guy does have a heart of gold)

And so forth and so on we've happily existed with sheets (two sets) one from some cheap retail chain and the other from IKEA... (a great buy at 20 bucks a set).

For 29 years of marriage that could and very well may be some kind of record.

Speaking of records, my poor kids suffered with cheap sheets too.

You do the Calculus... if given the choice between $125.00 Nike basketball shoes or a set of sheets... just sayin.

So this Christmas Daddio and I were gifted our very first ever really decent set of sheets.

I washed them, and was beyond delighted that there seemed to be an unusually large proportion of good quality material (the better to stretch my dear over the entire side of the mattress and make it's way down to fit generously yet securely around the bottom corners)...

Later when we climbed into bed Daddio and I had a moment to stretch down into the sheets and see if we could feel a difference...

We agreed the sheets felt thicker than we're used to... (and a bit colder)

They felt heavy, but a good heavy.

"They feel like hotel sheets!!!" Daddio exclaimed.

Minus the bed bugs...

(And that right there folks is how the other half lives...)

Queen Elzbieta, signing off... toodles

Dear Salvation Army...

What the hell was up this year?

I mean, where in the hell were all your bell ringers...?

I totally am compelled to shove at least a folded buck into each and every red bucket I see when I walk out of a store..

And for some reason there were not many red buckets out this year.

Filling each bucket I see adds up to quite a nice amount (from ME alone) for the Salvation Army.

I walk in and out of a lot of stores each holiday season.

Salvation Army bell ringers earn minimum wage (maybe less) and sometimes they are volunteers..

Trouble's grandmother worked as a volunteer ringer on one of the coldest days Michigan has ever known (last year).

It seems like they get the most cheerful, humble people to ring the bell.

I'm not gonna lie, from the bell ringer I expect a payback of some sort when I toss in my folded dollar.. in addition to the back pat I give myself I want something from them..

a "thank you"

a "Merry Christmas"

a "God bless you"...

something, anything to acknowledge my gift.

And I've never been disappointed, until this season.

They sent a dud to the store I frequent most.

Not just a dud, the man they sent to my local Kroger had no angel on his shoulder... he had a boulder sized chip.

And a cell phone

and a texting problem

complete with what appeared to be a personality defect.

On top of that, he didn't give a shit...

My Kroger store has an entrance that is attached to the exit... an open area (where the carts are stored) separate the two...

so each and every time I walked in, I could see him.

Often times he'd be standing with his back to the bucket, punching little buttons on his phone.

Some days I'd see him sitting on a shelf, hiding behind the crane machine, fiddling with his phone.

Other days, I'd see his bucket... but no sign of him.

I'd look for him and I'd find him sitting on the curb smokin a smoke, doing what else? hitting buttons.

The one and only time I shoved in my share he didn't even move a facial muscle.

or open his mouth... (of course his fingers were a movin across the key board of his phone...)

One day when following a wobbly old woman out of Kroger's, a bill clutched between her weathered, bony fingers, she paused, then struggled to get it into the small, cross shaped opening into the red bucket, I was stopped behind her and forced to watch her work in order to donate.

The Bell Ringer thoughtfully moved his phone to his other hand... and helped her shove it in.

He then went right back to his cell phone texting conversation... or maybe it was an intense game of Angry Birds...what-evvvvv-er

"HEY BUDDY...how bout a "THANKS" and a "MERRY CHRISTMAS" for this lady...???"

some crazy person (me) yelled.

He mumbled something and tucked himself back into the spot behind the crane machine.

I would love to be privvy to the knowledge of what the Salvation Army's take was from that one particular bucket spot...

I am 100% positive they suffered a loss from previous years.

In this case, that loss had NOTHING to do with a poor economy and everything to do with a poor hiring and follow up process...

Dear Salvation Army...please send us a good one next year, needy people are counting on you.