After 89 treasured years on this Earth, my last living grandparent, my mother's mother, has passed away.
Grandma Alma was the sweetest force of nature I've ever known. Her boundless energy and zest for life rivaled anyone's youth. She often had stories to tell of the trips she took to the Cape, or Florida, or one of the region's casinos on her most recent senior trip. She kept me up-to-date on the latest movies since she went to the theater with her friend, Alice, on a regular basis. And we would always discuss last night's Red Sox game, another painful loss. When they finally broke the streak and won the World Series in 2004, it was a thrilling victory she was sure she would never see in her lifetime, never mind twice.
I've yet to remember a major milestone in my life without my grandma there. Even as she grew older, she still came down for my mother's singing concerts and my niece's birthdays. And if she couldn't make it, you knew there was a card on its way in the mail. After all, she was the matriarch of our family, staying on top of everyone's lives as they developed alongside her own.
That's why Grandma's house was our central meeting place, as her door was always open. On any given day you would find a handful of friends and relatives hanging around the kitchen, chatting and reading the newspaper, or outside helping her in the garden with Uncle Dickie. When I was younger, my cousins and I would shoot baskets next to the garage of Alma's sister's house next door, or if there were enough people we'd play a game of wiffleball. As we got older, we'd pass the time playing board games or watching movies and football after a holiday feast.
There were always kids running around Grandma's house as new generations were added into the family. Often times I would find myself in the basement for yet another impromptu puppet show or new dollhouse display. Upstairs Zia Linda would be clearing the tables and my Aunt Linda washing dishes, as Grandma puttered around the kitchen to make sure everyone had a plate of leftovers to bring home. "No one leaves this house empty-handed" was her motto, even in her death. Many people brought home food from the reception that followed her funeral, and I'm sure Grandma was smiling down on us, trying to point out a dish that we had missed, making sure no one left hungry.
The holidays will be the hardest without her. She was the soul of our traditions, and she carried them with grace. I will always remember ringing the bell to enter the kitchen, greeting Grandma and Zia and Uncle Butch. The smell of homemade cooking follows me as I wander upstairs to put my coat away. Back downstairs a number of family members are already gathered around the hors d'oeuvres, trying to keep me from eating all of the deviled eggs. I snag about four, which I instantly regret once the food is ready. My mother, the eldest child, gives her annual toast, after which we clink our glasses to a rousing "Salute!" After salad, it's a rush to beat my dad to the beginning of the food line (not an easy feat I assure you).
And all the while, Grandma is behind the scenes with Zia and Butch, making sure everything is out on the tables or that there's enough meat cut. She's the last to sit down, after a few exasperated pleas from the rest of us, since sitting down was not one of Grandma's strong suits.
After dinner, Zia puts the coffee on rush order as Grandma brings out her fresh apple pie to add to the already overflowing dessert table. My mom whips up the cream, while a line forms to see who can lick the beaters this year. As stomachs settle, it's time to sample just a little from each dessert, or at least figure out which ones you'll be bringing home next to the leftover picadu (mmm, delicious, irresistible, totally bad for you picadu, how I love thee...). But I digress. :)
With full stomachs again we catch up with Grandma, who makes the rounds in each room. Every holiday I learned something new about Grandpa Al through added pictures on the walls. I can still see her resting on the couch, smiling up at her kids and her grandkids and her great grandkids, soaking up another successful holiday celebration. And at the end of the night it takes half an hour of walking around in your coat, carrying your leftovers, to say good-bye to everyone, including those you haven't seen in five years whose names you can't remember, but they just walked in the door so you gotta say something, even though your body temperature has gone up 20 degrees from your jacket and your significant other has been waiting in the car for 15 minutes thinking you got lost... :)
But it was all part of my family, the best parts of my family. The laughter after a dirty joke, ringing one of Grandma's many bells to signal dinner, the hello and good-bye hugs, the comfort, the togetherness. This is the sense of family my grandmother instilled in all of us as her legacy. And these are the holiday traditions that I wouldn't miss for the world.
I will miss them now though, as I will miss my Grandma Alma.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Slacker
I know, I'm a terrible slacker. It's been AGES since I've written in this thing. However, this weekend I had absolutely nothing planned, so I'm back! :)
A number of things have happened since my last post. I spent a day in Salem with some friends, walking around on the cobblestone and taking in the ghoulish, eerie ambiance. Well, actually, we got there in the middle of the afternoon so there were a ton of people and it wasn't really any different from any other tourist town. But at night we took a walking tour, with a terrific tour guide who brought the eerie parts of Salem to life, so that was great.
Unfortunately, walking for six hours on cobblestone did not set well with my knees, which are horribly out of shape (which goes along with the rest of my body!). Plus, a few days before that C and I went to visit some friends, my friend in NY and his friend in Maine, so there was plenty of walking done at that time as well. So at my annual physical the doctor determined I had sprained my knee, which shows you how much good walking does. :) Okay, okay, so it's probably the fact I don't actually do much walking that caused this, I'll admit it. But with a physical therapy appointment coming up, I should be up and running (well, more like regularly walking) in no time.
And there's more Fred medical news as well (what can I say, she's a geriatric cat by the vet's standards). Of course, whenever I hear the word geriatric it makes me think of nursing homes and retirement communities, not so much my cat that jumps on furniture and plays with squeaky mouse toys. But I digress...
Anyway, she went in for dental surgery this past Tuesday. Now, I know what you're thinking. You think I'm one of those people who takes their pet in for regular dental work and play dates and psychic readings or whatever. No. I couldn't afford it, nor am I that crazy. This is the last medical procedure I can do for this cat. The vet suggested it because her teeth were almost rotting out of her head, leaving the potential for bacteria to break loose and get into her blood stream, causing yet another infection. I just spent $800 on this cat- I want my money's worth! (Oh yeah, plus I love her to death and all that stuff). :)
Thankfully she made it through the procedure just fine, although I once again have the pleasure of giving her antibiotics. This time it's in pill form rather than liquid, which means no more pink spots on my couch, but it does mean more crushed medication that I have to do since pilling her is like pulling teeth (and the pun is totally intended there).
So that's pretty much my life at this point- knee strain and cat meds. Pretty soon I'll be adding to that a balanced diet and regular exercise regimen, to bring up my good cholesterol levels. Woo hoo! Look out world! :)
A number of things have happened since my last post. I spent a day in Salem with some friends, walking around on the cobblestone and taking in the ghoulish, eerie ambiance. Well, actually, we got there in the middle of the afternoon so there were a ton of people and it wasn't really any different from any other tourist town. But at night we took a walking tour, with a terrific tour guide who brought the eerie parts of Salem to life, so that was great.
Unfortunately, walking for six hours on cobblestone did not set well with my knees, which are horribly out of shape (which goes along with the rest of my body!). Plus, a few days before that C and I went to visit some friends, my friend in NY and his friend in Maine, so there was plenty of walking done at that time as well. So at my annual physical the doctor determined I had sprained my knee, which shows you how much good walking does. :) Okay, okay, so it's probably the fact I don't actually do much walking that caused this, I'll admit it. But with a physical therapy appointment coming up, I should be up and running (well, more like regularly walking) in no time.
And there's more Fred medical news as well (what can I say, she's a geriatric cat by the vet's standards). Of course, whenever I hear the word geriatric it makes me think of nursing homes and retirement communities, not so much my cat that jumps on furniture and plays with squeaky mouse toys. But I digress...
Anyway, she went in for dental surgery this past Tuesday. Now, I know what you're thinking. You think I'm one of those people who takes their pet in for regular dental work and play dates and psychic readings or whatever. No. I couldn't afford it, nor am I that crazy. This is the last medical procedure I can do for this cat. The vet suggested it because her teeth were almost rotting out of her head, leaving the potential for bacteria to break loose and get into her blood stream, causing yet another infection. I just spent $800 on this cat- I want my money's worth! (Oh yeah, plus I love her to death and all that stuff). :)
Thankfully she made it through the procedure just fine, although I once again have the pleasure of giving her antibiotics. This time it's in pill form rather than liquid, which means no more pink spots on my couch, but it does mean more crushed medication that I have to do since pilling her is like pulling teeth (and the pun is totally intended there).
So that's pretty much my life at this point- knee strain and cat meds. Pretty soon I'll be adding to that a balanced diet and regular exercise regimen, to bring up my good cholesterol levels. Woo hoo! Look out world! :)
Sunday, October 12, 2008
King Richard's Faire
Good evening gentle ladies and kind sirs. Tonight I would like to tell thee about my venture to King Richard's Faire in Carver, MA.
Don't worry, that's as far as I care to take the Old English. :)
This was my first time at any Renaissance Fair, and it was a blast. Not only were the costumes great (and a number of people who didn't work there were all dolled up), but the scenery was a lot of fun. It's in the middle of the woods with a number of different stores set up around the edge of the whole faire. In the middle are food vendors (complete with large turkey legs), rides mostly operated by cranks or swinging objects, and games including axe and knife throwing. We viewed a variety of mini shows throughout the day, and came back to watch jousting matches in-between. We ended our trip with an awesome tiger show (I love tigers) that included a liger. And there was no cage around the stage either. In fact, one of the rules was that no children were allowed to sit in the first three rows. (Screw the adults I guess). :) Actually, the guy running the show said it was a way to keep kids from getting too excited near the stage.
"Unless you don't want your kids going home with you after the show," he said with a grin.
The mini shows were a lot of fun. We listened to a three-man band play the song "Desdimona," a Renaissance rendition of the Knack song "My Sharona," and a roaming chorus finish off a set of classical music playing kazoos. We came across one dom with mad whipping skills, who used her whip to rip up pieces of paper held by her cohorts. At one point she brought a man from the audience onto the stage and placed a piece of celery between his legs. She then proceeded to use the whip to whittle down the celery piece by piece. He was very brave. :) They finished off their set by doing acrobatics with two long ribbons that hung in the air from three rods.
And then there was the jousting match. We watched the first show, where they had four knights on horses do various tricks with their lances, including popping balloons and spearing rings held by their squires. They then held a jousting match, which ended with a second match called so King Richard could attend. For the second match, our knight to root for was from England, riding with the colors red and green. That jousting match ended with another knight cheating and cutting our knight with his sword. They began fighting and the king announced they would have a final duel to determine the winner- a joust to the death. (Dun dun dun!).
But we didn't stay for that last one. :)
The last show we watched was the tiger show (did I mention I love tigers?). They had tiger cubs and a couple different varieties of tigers, including Bengal tigers, a snow white tiger, and a liger. The liger, Hercules, was so cool. He weighs over 900 pounds and has a very distinct lion-like head with tiger features. He could have swallowed one of the kids past the third row whole. But on stage he was a sweetheart, drinking the vitamin D milk they give them out of a bottle, and even catching a long stream of it in his mouth from one of the trainers standing a few feet away (adorable!). They also had him stand up, using a piece of meat on a stick, to show just how ridiculously long he is. Hercules indeed. I got some great pictures.
So all in all it was a great day. Beautiful weather, new atmosphere, fun things to see and do, what more could you ask for?
Don't worry, that's as far as I care to take the Old English. :)
This was my first time at any Renaissance Fair, and it was a blast. Not only were the costumes great (and a number of people who didn't work there were all dolled up), but the scenery was a lot of fun. It's in the middle of the woods with a number of different stores set up around the edge of the whole faire. In the middle are food vendors (complete with large turkey legs), rides mostly operated by cranks or swinging objects, and games including axe and knife throwing. We viewed a variety of mini shows throughout the day, and came back to watch jousting matches in-between. We ended our trip with an awesome tiger show (I love tigers) that included a liger. And there was no cage around the stage either. In fact, one of the rules was that no children were allowed to sit in the first three rows. (Screw the adults I guess). :) Actually, the guy running the show said it was a way to keep kids from getting too excited near the stage.
"Unless you don't want your kids going home with you after the show," he said with a grin.
The mini shows were a lot of fun. We listened to a three-man band play the song "Desdimona," a Renaissance rendition of the Knack song "My Sharona," and a roaming chorus finish off a set of classical music playing kazoos. We came across one dom with mad whipping skills, who used her whip to rip up pieces of paper held by her cohorts. At one point she brought a man from the audience onto the stage and placed a piece of celery between his legs. She then proceeded to use the whip to whittle down the celery piece by piece. He was very brave. :) They finished off their set by doing acrobatics with two long ribbons that hung in the air from three rods.
And then there was the jousting match. We watched the first show, where they had four knights on horses do various tricks with their lances, including popping balloons and spearing rings held by their squires. They then held a jousting match, which ended with a second match called so King Richard could attend. For the second match, our knight to root for was from England, riding with the colors red and green. That jousting match ended with another knight cheating and cutting our knight with his sword. They began fighting and the king announced they would have a final duel to determine the winner- a joust to the death. (Dun dun dun!).
But we didn't stay for that last one. :)
The last show we watched was the tiger show (did I mention I love tigers?). They had tiger cubs and a couple different varieties of tigers, including Bengal tigers, a snow white tiger, and a liger. The liger, Hercules, was so cool. He weighs over 900 pounds and has a very distinct lion-like head with tiger features. He could have swallowed one of the kids past the third row whole. But on stage he was a sweetheart, drinking the vitamin D milk they give them out of a bottle, and even catching a long stream of it in his mouth from one of the trainers standing a few feet away (adorable!). They also had him stand up, using a piece of meat on a stick, to show just how ridiculously long he is. Hercules indeed. I got some great pictures.
So all in all it was a great day. Beautiful weather, new atmosphere, fun things to see and do, what more could you ask for?
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Responsibility is a 4 Letter Word
It really sucks to be an adult sometimes.
Last Saturday, Fred threw up. No big deal. She's on medication for hyperthyroidism, and puking can be one of the side effects. It's happened before, plus she had just eaten a big plate of treats, so I didn't think anything of it.
But when she didn't want to eat on Sunday, I became a bit worried. She still drank water but couldn't keep any of it down. By Sunday night she was failing.
I woke up on Monday and called my vet. Unfortunately she was on vacation until the next day, but they told me to take Fred to Tufts if she couldn't make it much longer. By that afternoon she could barely walk. It was time.
I was at work by then, so our neighbor drove C and Fred to Tufts in Grafton. They admitted her (by the way, it's $128 just to walk in the door. That information will factor in later) and started her on an IV after taking some blood. They did a chemical panel and later discovered she had a fever. They also pushed on her middle and saw that she cringed while only pushing on one of her kidneys. So without doing an extensive list of tests that would've cost over $1,000, they decided to start her on antibiotics for a kidney infection.
The whole time, C is calling me at work throughout the night, giving me updates on her condition and what the cost of further tests would be. He told the vet I was definitely strapped for cash, and they tried to work with the results they had already obtained. We decided to wait and see if the antibiotics worked overnight before going any further.
I went to visit her that night after work, and she barely lifted her head. Her back was to the cage door and she looked tired. But after talking to her for a couple of minutes, she gingerly stood up and allowed me to pet her before laying back down for the night. I was relieved that she was in a medical facility, but of course it pained me to see her in a cage with the IV.
The next morning they called to tell me that she did all right overnight, and that her fever was gone. She was even eating a little bit which was a good sign. But they felt something hard in her stomach, like her intestinal walls were thicker, and suggested an ultrasound. They also discovered from the chemical panel her liver levels were off, which could point to liver failure. This information led them to believe that she could have something as serious as lymphoma.
Lymphoma?
That brought on a whole set of new concerns, concerns that, on my budget, would be impossible to satisfy. Cancer treatments imply chemotherapy, and who knows if that would even improve her life? Extending it is one thing, but if it was only to be time spent undergoing treatment, that's no life at all, for any living being.
Unfortunately, the ultrasound cost $250, and the vet said if it didn't show anything they'd still have to take more blood to determine a more definitive cause. Since I had already spent $120 for one overnight stay, and they wanted to keep her for another night, I had to forgo the ultrasound and stick with the bloodwork.
All day I tried not to think about the possibility that I may have to put my Freddie down. I've had her for seven years of her sixteen on Earth, and this was the first time that idea even presented itself. I've been lucky in that she's been a really healthy cat for most of the time I've had her. And now that her old age is finally showing, I may have a tough decision to make.
All this while having to keep up a modicum of professionalism. It was not a good day.
Thankfully, the results of the bloodwork came in that night while I was at work. They said her liver values were back to normal, and she was doing much better with the eating and drinking. They decided it was the kidney infection that snowballed into all of her other symptoms, guessing she was septic by the time we brought her in. No ultrasound combined with her progress allowed me to bring her home the next day, with two different kinds of antibiotics and the suggestion for an antacid. The cancer idea was off the table for now, so long as we kept an eye on her and had her blood checked again in another month.
I picked her up the next day, just beaming from ear to ear. She looked much better and even meowed while in her carrier, a sign that she was getting back to normal. (She really hates that thing, and will meow like she's going through the Spanish Inquisition the whole time she's in it. It really adds to the fun of bringing her to the vet, or ANYWHERE). :)
Now it's just a matter of force-feeding pink liquid medicine down her throat (and you know all animals just love that!) while trying not to spray it all over her face, and paws, and any other body part she will try to put in the way of her and the applicator. She looks like a Pepto Bismol junkie, with tiny pink spots all mashed into her fur. And we get to continue this fine tradition for a month- yay.
But I'll take it for even just one more day with my feline best friend.
I can't imagine what I would've done if the results of this hospital trip had turned out differently. As it is, I spent about $800 to bring her out of this situation alive and well. Who knows what will happen if she becomes sick again. It's just too much of an adult decision for me to ever want to think about again.
But I will have to eventually, as all adults do, with nothing but responsibility as my guide. And that brings no comfort at all.
Last Saturday, Fred threw up. No big deal. She's on medication for hyperthyroidism, and puking can be one of the side effects. It's happened before, plus she had just eaten a big plate of treats, so I didn't think anything of it.
But when she didn't want to eat on Sunday, I became a bit worried. She still drank water but couldn't keep any of it down. By Sunday night she was failing.
I woke up on Monday and called my vet. Unfortunately she was on vacation until the next day, but they told me to take Fred to Tufts if she couldn't make it much longer. By that afternoon she could barely walk. It was time.
I was at work by then, so our neighbor drove C and Fred to Tufts in Grafton. They admitted her (by the way, it's $128 just to walk in the door. That information will factor in later) and started her on an IV after taking some blood. They did a chemical panel and later discovered she had a fever. They also pushed on her middle and saw that she cringed while only pushing on one of her kidneys. So without doing an extensive list of tests that would've cost over $1,000, they decided to start her on antibiotics for a kidney infection.
The whole time, C is calling me at work throughout the night, giving me updates on her condition and what the cost of further tests would be. He told the vet I was definitely strapped for cash, and they tried to work with the results they had already obtained. We decided to wait and see if the antibiotics worked overnight before going any further.
I went to visit her that night after work, and she barely lifted her head. Her back was to the cage door and she looked tired. But after talking to her for a couple of minutes, she gingerly stood up and allowed me to pet her before laying back down for the night. I was relieved that she was in a medical facility, but of course it pained me to see her in a cage with the IV.
The next morning they called to tell me that she did all right overnight, and that her fever was gone. She was even eating a little bit which was a good sign. But they felt something hard in her stomach, like her intestinal walls were thicker, and suggested an ultrasound. They also discovered from the chemical panel her liver levels were off, which could point to liver failure. This information led them to believe that she could have something as serious as lymphoma.
Lymphoma?
That brought on a whole set of new concerns, concerns that, on my budget, would be impossible to satisfy. Cancer treatments imply chemotherapy, and who knows if that would even improve her life? Extending it is one thing, but if it was only to be time spent undergoing treatment, that's no life at all, for any living being.
Unfortunately, the ultrasound cost $250, and the vet said if it didn't show anything they'd still have to take more blood to determine a more definitive cause. Since I had already spent $120 for one overnight stay, and they wanted to keep her for another night, I had to forgo the ultrasound and stick with the bloodwork.
All day I tried not to think about the possibility that I may have to put my Freddie down. I've had her for seven years of her sixteen on Earth, and this was the first time that idea even presented itself. I've been lucky in that she's been a really healthy cat for most of the time I've had her. And now that her old age is finally showing, I may have a tough decision to make.
All this while having to keep up a modicum of professionalism. It was not a good day.
Thankfully, the results of the bloodwork came in that night while I was at work. They said her liver values were back to normal, and she was doing much better with the eating and drinking. They decided it was the kidney infection that snowballed into all of her other symptoms, guessing she was septic by the time we brought her in. No ultrasound combined with her progress allowed me to bring her home the next day, with two different kinds of antibiotics and the suggestion for an antacid. The cancer idea was off the table for now, so long as we kept an eye on her and had her blood checked again in another month.
I picked her up the next day, just beaming from ear to ear. She looked much better and even meowed while in her carrier, a sign that she was getting back to normal. (She really hates that thing, and will meow like she's going through the Spanish Inquisition the whole time she's in it. It really adds to the fun of bringing her to the vet, or ANYWHERE). :)
Now it's just a matter of force-feeding pink liquid medicine down her throat (and you know all animals just love that!) while trying not to spray it all over her face, and paws, and any other body part she will try to put in the way of her and the applicator. She looks like a Pepto Bismol junkie, with tiny pink spots all mashed into her fur. And we get to continue this fine tradition for a month- yay.
But I'll take it for even just one more day with my feline best friend.
I can't imagine what I would've done if the results of this hospital trip had turned out differently. As it is, I spent about $800 to bring her out of this situation alive and well. Who knows what will happen if she becomes sick again. It's just too much of an adult decision for me to ever want to think about again.
But I will have to eventually, as all adults do, with nothing but responsibility as my guide. And that brings no comfort at all.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
I'm F#ckin Old
You know you're getting old when conversations with friends (or co-workers) go something like this.
"So, I was flipping through channels the other day and I came across the MTV Video Music Awards."
"I remember when all they played on MTV was videos. Now all I see are shows about teens in the 'real world,' none of which I ever encountered when I was that age."
"Anyway, it was hosted by some punk guy I didn't recognize."
"Oh yeah, he's in some band I think."
"Oh, that makes sense. He was wearing ridiculously tight black pants with spiky hair and lots of make-up. He really wasn't that funny either"
"Did you see that one singer, Re-hanna, Re-anna..."
"Re-ahna?"
"I guess so. Her pants looked like they were painted on. And she was wearing heels, no lie, that looked about eight inches high."
"How does anyone function in those shoes?"
"No idea."
"These are great role models for kids. Look like a slut and make it in the music business."
"Well, there are the Jonas Brothers with their virtue rings."
"Who are the Jonas Brothers?"
"Some boy band. They look about 15."
"Well geez, I hope they're still virgins at 15!"
"Remember when Jessica Simpson claimed she was a virgin? That didn't last long."
"But that was years ago before she got married. At least she waited that long."
"Yeah, and she was what? 23 or something?"
"I think so. That's a long time to wait in this day and age."
"No kidding. There are a number of famous teens right now having babies. Can you imagine? And I don't know any teen pregnancies that end up like in Juno. Or even Knocked Up."
"Yeah, but those are just movies, and comedies at that. They're obviously overdone to be funny. And I would hope people would recognize that."
"Older, wiser people, yes. Hormonal teenagers, not so much."
"Did I tell you a group of teenagers threw a rock at my car the other day?"
"Seriously?"
"Yup. Never mind the damage to my car, someone could get hurt."
"Damn punk kids."
We're calling teenagers punk kids.
I remember being a high school kid. I remember being a college student. But I don't remember making the transition from being one of those things to complaining about them.
At least I'm not calling them whipper-snappers yet. :)
"So, I was flipping through channels the other day and I came across the MTV Video Music Awards."
"I remember when all they played on MTV was videos. Now all I see are shows about teens in the 'real world,' none of which I ever encountered when I was that age."
"Anyway, it was hosted by some punk guy I didn't recognize."
"Oh yeah, he's in some band I think."
"Oh, that makes sense. He was wearing ridiculously tight black pants with spiky hair and lots of make-up. He really wasn't that funny either"
"Did you see that one singer, Re-hanna, Re-anna..."
"Re-ahna?"
"I guess so. Her pants looked like they were painted on. And she was wearing heels, no lie, that looked about eight inches high."
"How does anyone function in those shoes?"
"No idea."
"These are great role models for kids. Look like a slut and make it in the music business."
"Well, there are the Jonas Brothers with their virtue rings."
"Who are the Jonas Brothers?"
"Some boy band. They look about 15."
"Well geez, I hope they're still virgins at 15!"
"Remember when Jessica Simpson claimed she was a virgin? That didn't last long."
"But that was years ago before she got married. At least she waited that long."
"Yeah, and she was what? 23 or something?"
"I think so. That's a long time to wait in this day and age."
"No kidding. There are a number of famous teens right now having babies. Can you imagine? And I don't know any teen pregnancies that end up like in Juno. Or even Knocked Up."
"Yeah, but those are just movies, and comedies at that. They're obviously overdone to be funny. And I would hope people would recognize that."
"Older, wiser people, yes. Hormonal teenagers, not so much."
"Did I tell you a group of teenagers threw a rock at my car the other day?"
"Seriously?"
"Yup. Never mind the damage to my car, someone could get hurt."
"Damn punk kids."
We're calling teenagers punk kids.
I remember being a high school kid. I remember being a college student. But I don't remember making the transition from being one of those things to complaining about them.
At least I'm not calling them whipper-snappers yet. :)
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Mosquitoes and Those Who Hate Them
For some reason, mosquitoes love me. Often times I will stand next to C, who is 6'8, and he'll come away with one or two bites, while I'll have 27. And that's not really an exaggeration either. We were at a barbecue a couple of weeks ago, when I noticed a huge bug bite on my leg after being outside for an hour. I asked for some bug spray and sprayed my arms, legs, and feet. I knew my hands might get one or two more, and maybe my neck if I wasn't paying attention. But for the most part, I thought I was safe.
Thought is the operative word there. The next day, I woke up with 22 bites. C, I believe, had less than a handful, and he never even put on bug spray. Bastard. :)
And this past weekend, we went to his mom's house and sat out on the back deck for less than 15 minutes, and I came away with eight bites, all on my feet. Again, C came away with none.
I was even in bed one night, covers up to my neck, when I felt something land on my eyebrow. I brushed it away and felt something sticky on my finger. Sure enough, when I turned on the light I saw a squished mosquito on my hand. In my own bedroom! ARGH!
I'm surprised I haven't died from malaria/West Nile/yellow fever.
I have no idea why mosquitoes are so attracted to me. One web site I went to said they are often attracted to men, those who are overweight, and those with Type O blood. I'm not particularly any one of those things, while C takes two out of three. It's just not fair.
I even have poor blood circulation. Whenever they have to take blood it often takes the nurse a good minute or so to find a vein. Apparently they should employ mosquitoes to do the job because they have no problem finding my blood.
My blood must be fairly sweet or at least giving off some kind of pleasant aroma that attracts those damn bugs because it never fails. Any time I'm outside, and not even for an extended period of time, I could just be walking to my car, I put myself in jeopardy of being attacked by one of those vicious predators. And, seriously, those red spots itch like a mo-fo! I finally got over the patchwork of bites I had from the barbecue, and the cycle has begun all over again. ARGH!
I should start a club: People Who Are Often Bitten by Mosquitoes and Are Sick of It!
Hmmm. I'll have to work on the name. :)
Thought is the operative word there. The next day, I woke up with 22 bites. C, I believe, had less than a handful, and he never even put on bug spray. Bastard. :)
And this past weekend, we went to his mom's house and sat out on the back deck for less than 15 minutes, and I came away with eight bites, all on my feet. Again, C came away with none.
I was even in bed one night, covers up to my neck, when I felt something land on my eyebrow. I brushed it away and felt something sticky on my finger. Sure enough, when I turned on the light I saw a squished mosquito on my hand. In my own bedroom! ARGH!
I'm surprised I haven't died from malaria/West Nile/yellow fever.
I have no idea why mosquitoes are so attracted to me. One web site I went to said they are often attracted to men, those who are overweight, and those with Type O blood. I'm not particularly any one of those things, while C takes two out of three. It's just not fair.
I even have poor blood circulation. Whenever they have to take blood it often takes the nurse a good minute or so to find a vein. Apparently they should employ mosquitoes to do the job because they have no problem finding my blood.
My blood must be fairly sweet or at least giving off some kind of pleasant aroma that attracts those damn bugs because it never fails. Any time I'm outside, and not even for an extended period of time, I could just be walking to my car, I put myself in jeopardy of being attacked by one of those vicious predators. And, seriously, those red spots itch like a mo-fo! I finally got over the patchwork of bites I had from the barbecue, and the cycle has begun all over again. ARGH!
I should start a club: People Who Are Often Bitten by Mosquitoes and Are Sick of It!
Hmmm. I'll have to work on the name. :)
Monday, September 1, 2008
Labor Day Weekend
Whew, what a weekend! Thank goodness it was three days long, because I needed the extra day to get some rest! :)
I worked six hours of overtime last week, which is a rare thing (I think it's only the second or third time this year I've gotten any extra hours). So when my supervisor asked if I wanted to get any more this weekend, I did think about it for a split second. But after such a long week, I was ready for three whole days off.
Saturday C and I went to my parents place for the day, and to hang out with my grandmother. She's going to be 89 in November and is struggling with her breathing, weight, and energy level. As a very active woman it's tough for her to be unable to do most of the things she enjoys. But many of our family still live in that area and visit her frequently, and of course she still watches the Red Sox. Nothing can stop her from doing that. :)
Anyway, we then had dinner at my parents place- delicious ham of which we got to take a few slices home (that'll be at least two days of dinner for work this short week.) We chatted about the upcoming election and how McCain chose an extremely conservative woman from Alaska to be his VP. My dad told us he heard a commentator say that McCain chose her because he realized how important the Eskimo vote would be in this election.
"Because he wasn't a comedian I wasn't expecting that, and I almost spit my food out," he said, as we all laughed.
After that the rest of the night was spent trying to keep my two nieces from destroying each other, along with my parents house. They both have the energy of a nuclear explosion, so putting them together just might cause one! :)
C and I came back home that night, since Sunday was his mom's birthday. We went over there for dinner (two free dinners- it was such a great weekend), and to play a game of Scrabble with C, his brother, his mom, and me. Usually I'm not much of a match for C or his mom (they've actively played Scrabble together for a long time) but I scored a come-from-behind victory to convince C that I wasn't letting his mom win on her birthday. It was my strategy all along. Really, it was. :)
That brings us to today, Monday, Labor Day, where we had absolutely no plans and haven't gone ANYWHERE. That's what the holiday's all about, right? And that's exactly how we planned to "celebrate."
I worked six hours of overtime last week, which is a rare thing (I think it's only the second or third time this year I've gotten any extra hours). So when my supervisor asked if I wanted to get any more this weekend, I did think about it for a split second. But after such a long week, I was ready for three whole days off.
Saturday C and I went to my parents place for the day, and to hang out with my grandmother. She's going to be 89 in November and is struggling with her breathing, weight, and energy level. As a very active woman it's tough for her to be unable to do most of the things she enjoys. But many of our family still live in that area and visit her frequently, and of course she still watches the Red Sox. Nothing can stop her from doing that. :)
Anyway, we then had dinner at my parents place- delicious ham of which we got to take a few slices home (that'll be at least two days of dinner for work this short week.) We chatted about the upcoming election and how McCain chose an extremely conservative woman from Alaska to be his VP. My dad told us he heard a commentator say that McCain chose her because he realized how important the Eskimo vote would be in this election.
"Because he wasn't a comedian I wasn't expecting that, and I almost spit my food out," he said, as we all laughed.
After that the rest of the night was spent trying to keep my two nieces from destroying each other, along with my parents house. They both have the energy of a nuclear explosion, so putting them together just might cause one! :)
C and I came back home that night, since Sunday was his mom's birthday. We went over there for dinner (two free dinners- it was such a great weekend), and to play a game of Scrabble with C, his brother, his mom, and me. Usually I'm not much of a match for C or his mom (they've actively played Scrabble together for a long time) but I scored a come-from-behind victory to convince C that I wasn't letting his mom win on her birthday. It was my strategy all along. Really, it was. :)
That brings us to today, Monday, Labor Day, where we had absolutely no plans and haven't gone ANYWHERE. That's what the holiday's all about, right? And that's exactly how we planned to "celebrate."
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