Help- I Need Some Help Here...

No!
I don't need
HELP
with a hangover..

I DO
NEED
HELP
with another issue.

Can anyone tell me
how to get my blog
back to single spacing?

I type it in-
It looks like it is
single spaced.

I post and
Presto-Chango
It is double spaced.

Any ideas?
Anyone?
Anyone?

Please?

Edited to add:

Okay- Just to prove that

God does, indeed,

have a sense of

humor..

I can see that it is now

single spaced..

but I can't get the

top to go to

the middle

even with highlighting

and hitting the

middle thingy..

Remind me to

take an Excedrin

when I am done here.

xxoo Diana

A Favor For A Friend

I have a wonderful

friend.

Her name is Jettie.

Yes.That.Is.Her.Real.Name.

Thanks for asking...

Anyway,

in the period I like to call

BJ

(Before Jettie)

I had NEVER EVER

heard of blogging.

A BLOG?

A BLOG???

What the heck is a blog

I wanted to know..

Come on over and check

it out- she told me.

I blog for books,

she said.

You what?

You blog for books?

Yes.I.Blog.For.Books.

she replied...

(like she was talking to

an idiot..or a dumb

blond Yankee)

Hmpffff..

Well, I went to visit

her blog..

Called..

quite appropriately

(after you get to know

her for a spell)

Jettie's Ramblings.

Now, Jettie reads books.

Christian books..

None of that smut for her.

So, all you smut minded gals

just keep your comments

to yourselves...

yeah...and you know who

you are.

Anyway, Jettie is having

a give away for a book.

A GOOD BOOK..

No! Not the BIBLE..

that is

THE

Good Book.

This is just a good book.

So...

as a favor I would

appreciate it..

if you would go over

to

Jettie's blog

and sign up for

her give away.

Now, she has never

done this before..

so she didn't ask you

to sign up as a follower

if you sign up for the book

giveaway..

but..

PLEASE DO..

Cuz it is only right.She is a wonderful reviewer..

AND

she is a wonderful writer..

has even written a book

of her own

that captivated me

from the first page to the last.

And I am hoping..

that by getting a few

followers..

she will write something

besides book reviews.

So...stop over..

She thanks you..

And so do I!

Going Underground

Well~ I am sorry to disappoint you

AGAIN

because this is not a post about~

You'll have to wait another day for that.

Instead-I am going to show you

what I like to call

Hell-In-The-Basement.

MyHero has been promising

to clean out the "supply"

(and I use that term loosely)

closet since we moved in uh...

that would be 4 years ago now.

Uh.huh.

Now I'm not saying he never intended to

clean it out but he is kind of

sneaky.

He knows that eventually I get

sick and tired of waiting to

get something done

and do it myself.

But I played the game..

Just like always..

and...I waited..

and hinted..

and waited..

and asked outright..

and it still looked like this..and this...and this...Finally...I couldn't stand it for

ONE MORE DAY

(do ya ever get that-when you ask to get something done?)

I'll do it tomorrow.

What's that old song?

Tomorrow Never Comes

Uh-huh..

That's what happens at my house.

So..today..being as it was rainy..

and a bit dreary..

and then foggy..

I put on my old clothes

and dug into the mess..

Now..I'm not saying this is perfect,

mind you,

but I am saying I now realize that I have

at least 6 cans of KILZ..

Thank you Lord!

And I can see the shelves...And I have stripper...

No! I didn't say

I had A stripper..

I mean the kind you use

on wood..THAT kinda stripper.

Now my friend, Roger...

He might have a stripper at his house.

Never mind..

Connie would put the kabosh on THAT

Where was I?

oh yes...I have Paint..

Did I mention I have Paint?

Gallons and gallons

and semi-gallons

of Paint?

See?I also now have drop cloths

all neatly folded and set to go..And last..but not least..

I have..

Ready?

I have

DULLING SPRAY.

Whatever in the world did I intend to do

with dulling spray?

Maybe MyHero bought it planning to

spray it on me..

just to take the edge off my humor..

Not sure..

Hmmm...

MyHero got home a bit ago..

He heard me mumbling to myself

in the basement and made the

trek -down the steps.

Surprise!!!!

He said...Oh! Did you clean the paint room up

ALL BY YOURSELF?

No I had a pocket mouse that I carry around

with me that jumps out and does all

my dirty work

Looks pretty good!

I asked him if he would carry all the empty

boxes upstairs.

He said...Yes! I'll carry them up,,,

Ready?

Tomorrow!

I carried them up myself..

I don't want them to

be here come Christmas.

ps...I love him anyway!

Good Moaning (er-Morning) Monday

You know how some people just moan about it being Monday?

Well, here's something that really moans!

Last week I went to Two Rivers State Park to drop something off. On the way home I came up County R and stopped alongside the road to take a picture of this place. When my son was young he used to go there with friends (after dark, of course) and they swore they could hear "things" and feel presences there. This is The Maribel Caves Hotel.Creepy, huh?This is an old abandoned building (Inn built in 1900) where Al Capone supposedly visited and it is close to the Maribel Caves. This hotel went up in flames in the 1920's, and again in the 1960's and it 'GLOWS' when the new moon is out. From the road, you can see every detail of the hotel. This hotel is backed by woods as is the whole general area. Its a three story hotel, all abandoned, You can't get to any of the floors anymore. The third floor was reported to have cold hands that would apply pressure to your back. If you flash a light at a second floor window "something" flashes back at you. People that went to the basement reported feelings of being threatened. The name "Hotel Hell" came from the red stains on the walls and the MOANING noises that emanated from the basement. There could be heard a ringing of a bell and the sound of wheels grating along. There are caves are right below the hotel . It has been reported that there are MOANS that come from the caves. Witnesses have heard laughing. Some have reported seeing a little girl in a black dress wearing no shoes on the stairs which go into the caves area. You can hear far-away singing there day or night near the old stables. Some visitors say they have been chased by white light. Some of them have seen a carriage drawn by white horses. In the old stables the sounds of horses hooves have been heard. The first thing to be built in that location was a "resort" built in the 1800's which was one of those places where people went to be cleansed by the natural spring water which still runs pure and clear there today. When you walk the trails there (it's still open to the public) you will see that there is one cave door which has been partially opened due to a rock slide, spring water still runs there.

As of today-all the floors have been removed and it is completely vacant...as are the old stables that sit down field from the hotel. It is an eerie place to visit....even in broad daylight.

I thought this was quite interesting...

As I drove away I noticed that

the adjoining campground

sported this sign!

(I say-enter at your own risk)....

Pants On The Ground-Pants On The Ground

In honor of Wednesday night's American Idol (repeat performance of Pants On The Ground) I am repeating this blog for my newer readers!

Hey! Long before that became a popular saying/song (thanks American Idol) we knew what that meant! And it DIDN'T mean the generation that lets their pants bag til the fly is below the knees. How DOES that work anyway? Sorry, I digress. I started to tell you what it USED to mean when there were Pants On The Ground. It meant POTTY TRAINING TIME. Remember those days? huh? huh? Sure you do-reach waaaaay back! Ah! Yes! There are those memories.

Today Dr.Phil teaches YOU how to train YOUR child by throwing a party. Yes, you heard that right-You pee- you party. If that's how it worked for adults most of us would be partying our pants off once we hit oh-lets-say-about 55! Yes! That's a good age~ 55 or so- It just DEPENDS!

Anyway, back to the potty training business......Here's how his theory works- You spend ONE WHOLE DAY in the bathroom with your pants off....No-not YOUR pants- The kid's pants. You put the kid's pants on the ground and have him/her/it sit. Guess where they sit? Hooray-Good guess! -I may just have to throw a party for you! The KID sits on the TOILET. You better bring a chair in with you because it is going to be a LONG day and the only real seat is already taken. So, every time little Miss/Mister does the deed you blow up a balloon and let them pop it...you sing, you shout, you praise Jesus...the kid has peed~ NOW- If they drop a bomb-the party really explodes......someone (who shall remain nameless) is at a remote location - (let's say their car phone outside just so you get the picture)....When the BOMB is dropped- You (somehow manage to) notify someone to CALL the house and pretend they are a character- you know - like Mickey Mouse or Barney (the big purple guy) or Dora The Explorer and you CONGRATULATE your little pooper for the dropping of the doo-doo. Hooray! Hooray! I pooped today! Yes, indeedy, this method is supposed to completely potty-train a child in one day. Say, maybe the character you should call would be Dr. Phil being as it was his idea in the first place.

Now....if all this hoopla doesn't work I will give you MY OWN PERSONAL METHOD FOR POTTY TRAINING. Bribery! Yes, bribery...don't turn your nose up...I'm sure you have done worse. Candy bars! Crayons! Coca-Cola! My personal favorite? M&M's ~ They don't cost much and you only have to dole them out one at a time. My own son would push out 40 little tiny turds a day to get an M&M. It worked-Look how he turned out....oh...never mind... (apologizing to my son who knows this is true but is going to deny it anyway-kind of like he denies he used to pee on the ficus tree in the living room-Well, someone was peeing in there and it wasn't me). Well, that wraps up this lesson and I am off for M&M's.....you never know when there is going to be a pooper-in-training in the house.

I Bragged That-

I NEVER GET SICK!
I was wrong-dead wrong

I have the flu,

Or maybe a bug.

But don't get close,

Cuz you won't want a hug.

I'm feel rotten~

Like I've been beat up,

My head ache is awful,

& I'm sipping water from my cup.

I'll be back later~

Or maybe not.

I think I will lay down,

In my warm nesting spot.

I'm sorry my readers~

Will not get their smile.

I promise you'll laugh later,

So hang in there a while.

Back To The Real World

After arriving home we decided to crawl into bed and unpack the next morning. We thought it would look "easier" by morning's light. Wrong-So very wrong! WHAT a mess to untangle. I need to tell you something. IF you drive to Florida, and everyone else flies, YOU get to drag home everything everyone does NOT want to take on the plane. We inherited golf clubs, and extra clothes and souveniers plus our own junk. We had what might be described as a "full load"...and I'm not talking about BabyE's dirty diapers. (we managed to leave those behind).

Now, unpacking on a sunny day is not so bad. Unpacking on a drizzly, cold, miserable day is another story. MyHero suggested that I needed to take the vehicle to the car wash. I suggested that he take that car and stick it........oh, never mind.....it wasn't that great of a suggestion anyway.

At last, we get everything off-loaded and dragged into the house. Who do you think gets to put all the stuff away? Good guess! It is certainly not MyHero. He is now in possession of the remote control and a TV set that he does not have to share. Wow! There's some really good movies on TV this morning....did you see this one-Michael-He's the arch angel and blah-blah-blah-did you see this one? No! Your Royal Hindaxx-Not since 1985 (or whenever it came out and you watched it 3 times then), I am unpacking all the bags and boxes but thanks for the critic's update.

As soon as I can manage it I am sneaking out the door to Starbucks. Guess what? He won't even know I am gone!

The Old Bat

My friend, JeanneD & I are old friends. Not in the amount of time measured on earth-but we are soul sisters....two of a kind. She is sure she was a transplant from the Roswell Incident (look it up) and I think I was just born weird. We were talking the other day about being old bats...laughing about it actually. . I hope she doesn’t mind that I am sharing our "old batisms" with you (kinda like a baptism-only different) -Got you thinking now, don’t I? We were talking about the aches and pains that come with age. I won’t mention hers because she might beat me~verbally, that is. She has a way with words that is unsurpassed.

But, yes indeedy, there are a few of us old bats left. This one has one bad wing that swells and aches and swells and aches As I was telling her, I went to my regular (or not so regular doctor-I couldn't tell by looking at him) and he poked and prodded and sent me off for an ultrasound and poked some more and scratched his head and did the SED rate (blood test). When those results came back he about fell off his chair and said, "I had NO IDEA" - I said, "I told you so"...so we did some more pokes and prods and finally, aha...the light at the end of the tunnel- it's coming...it’s coming..... If I WERE A MAN- IT would be called Ryder's Syndrome...however, it has never been diagnosed in a woman. Well-as I told him-my father always said I thought like a man-did that count? Nope! That wouldn't do...must poke and prod some more...meantime I am sitting upright in a chair to sleep with an ankle (one week) and a knee (the next week) and then a toe ,etc. etc., etc...start counting the body parts...that would SWELL & bruise and OMG the pain....anyway...this went on for a year....labs went to Stanford University hospital...hmmm...sed rates are REALLY high-Really? No kidding! oh..well...let's try to get those down to normal. (Normal is 3-5- Mine was over 60) (Right now I stay with it in the teens) 9 means you are in pretty bad pain (or good pain if you are a pain doctor)...well, long story short...nothing worked....except- praise God- an old inflammatory that they don't like to use anymore because it makes your stomach bleed....give it to me...I can make more blood. So....15 years later I have :"flares"~ that's what we call them now~"flares" that come and go. When I flare they put me on the old standby to get it under control until I can manage with 8 hr Tylenol. With inflammatory arthritis you are not supposed to eat any citrus (are you reading this -it’s medical information from an Ask-The-Dummy-Course) or nightshade plants. (peppers, eggplant, tomatoes & yes, potatoes for some people) . I can eat the potatoes and a little bit of tomato once in a while- I can't touch peppers or citrus or I flare almost immediately. Eggplant was not a loss for me-I never met an eggplant I really liked. I get by-I feel great most of the time......well, I think my pain tolerance level is higher than most-it must be-I've had good practice-I married MyHero and I’m still part of the same family, right?

The achiness seems to be worse in Winter so I am always looking towards Spring. I can’t wait- Spring is coming-soon it will be time to come out of the bat cage for the Season. My friend, Jeanne, is holed up in her bat cage too. I haven’t "talked" to her in a couple of days. Are you staying warm and dry in there? Do you get enough to eat? I always heard that bats liked insects and sex (see how that almost rhymes)? I'm not sure if that's true....but Jeanne should know~

Isn't (S)he Cute?

Through no fault of his own, my brother was a cross dresser early on. He almost became the sister I never had. My mother would, on occasion, let me dress him up in one of my outgrown dresses. Back then, no one thought there was any stigma attached to it...it was just funny. It was so funny, in fact, that my mother took a picture of it.

Today, if you dress a boy in his sister’s clothes the child psychologists and psychoanalysts lambast you from here to Kingdom Come. They will tell you, in no uncertain terms, that you might make him "gender confused", or worse....I never ask what "the worse" might be. I don’t want to know.

No...I think sometimes we take ourselves way too seriously. After all, my brother, Charles (his real name) has been called Charlie his whole life, and he is no sissy. (We don’t talk about the fact that there is a GIRL’S PERFUME called Charlie though, do we?) Truly, he is normal. Well, as normal as anyone in MY family will ever be~and that’s not saying much. Oh, he has his quirks, I guess- you know, little things, like after he uses the bathroom the toilet lid is NEVER up...and I don’t know quite what that means because at our house when MyHero comes out the lid is never DOWN. Oh, yeah...and I noticed that he usually wears loafers- not the kind with pennies in them so I don’t think there’s anything too significant in that either.

Anyway- He’s my brother and I love him and I am sure I will pay for this bit of fun at his expense in more ways than one- Just like when we were kids..... (By now the new lady in his life is wondering just who he REALLY is)- As SweetCheeks would say, "Sollahy Chollahy"!

Love Thy Neighbor

When we lived in Florida we had an unusual family living next door. It was two elderly sisters. We called them Sister One & Sister Two because their names (whatever they were) didn’t seem to sit well on their shoulders....matter of fact the names were so mismatched we could never remember who was who. Thus~ Sister One & Sister Two. You know, I just realized that we thought they were quite elderly then but, upon reflection, they were probably 60ish! Amazing how much older 60 was in the 1980's! Or....maybe it wasn’t....actually...60 is 60...but this isn’t about age now, is it? Most of y’all (there’s that favorite word of mine again) lie about your age anyway...OR...you tell the truth about your age but you have had so much "work" that everyone says how wonderful you look at your age....yeah...you know who you are-I’m not gonna out you.

Anyway, the sisters were smitten with MamasBoy because he was so dadgummed cute. He made you smile just to look at him. As a matter of fact he endeared himself to them the first day we moved in. He picked the most beautiful magnolia blossoms off the bush out front and took them over to the ladies. They came over and thanked us profusely and said, "Oh my! What a sweet and wonderful child you have there." About an hour later, they came back looking a bit distressed to inform us that MamasBoy had picked ALL the magnolias off the "special" tree in their own front yard. I didn’t quite have the guts to ask what made it so special. Besides, the unspoken message was to please keep him off their lawn no matter how cute he was.

Sister One was a sourpuss...never married...never had children...never laughed (that I could see). Sister Two had a daughter that was not the brightest bulb in the GE factory. She had an even dimmer spouse. We could never remember their names either so we just called them Nit & Wit. Nit (because he was always scratching his head) and Wit because she was the smarter of the two. I once asked her how they met and she said she went into an I SCREAM store (actually she said Ice cream-but if you could see him you would think I SCREAM). She said it was love at first sight. Uh-huh..I didn’t ask......Nuff said.

Nit & Wit traveled together. You never saw one without the other. They also had a couple of special traveling companions. Two yowling and howling Siamese cats. The cats had the whole back seat to themselves...complete with litterbox on the floor and a bowl of soft cat food. Imagine the smell on a hot Florida day. Ready? Imagine ....NOW.....okay...STOP...it is too gross to imagine. God bless them-they were happy with the life they had and loved each other-what more could you ask for?

Our "friendship" came to an abrupt end one fine sunny day. Sister One was outside grubbing around in her bushes when Older Son threw a big, black rubber snake over the fence and INTO the bushes where Sister One was working..AND...she fell AND she hurt her back.....AND...she went to the doctor......AND...Older Son mowed her lawn for her from that point on.....AND we moved before they could sue us!. Sad to say ~We lost touch~ Just one more reason I am NOT on Facebook!

I Am NOT The Dummy Here

There’s a dummy in the house. Not the usual one either. Only at MY house would there be a real live duumy (well, he’s not really alive but you know what I mean) Mortimer Snerd was found at Goodwill by none other than the Tpot and Mimi. Not to be outdone by their brother, MamasBoy, who has always played tricks on them, they decided that pay-back was in order.

The first call woke him & SecretAgent up late at night. When Mamasboy answered a voice rasped, "Let me out of this box!" Being a quick thinker, even in the dead of night, Mamasboy looked at the number and it was not one he recognized. He hit redial and a sleepy voice answered..."Yeah..whaddaya want?" He apologized, said he had a wrong number, and hung up. Little did he know that for the next few weeks he would be plagued by phone calls from strange numbers and have even stranger remarks rasped into his phone. AND Little did he know that his sisters had cajoled other people into letting them use their phone on any given moment to make a call.

First MamasBoy called Mimi, "Knock it off"he told her. "Knock what off?" she asked quite innocently..."Yeah...like you don’t know-quit calling me". "I’m not" she replied very seriously. Then he called Tpot-"Very funny!" he told her. "What’s funny?" she asked. "You know what’s funny," he told her, " and quit calling me". "I’m NOT calling you", she said and asked what he was talking about.

The calls got more and more desperate and the raspy voice got louder- "LET ME OUTTA THIS STINKING BOX- I CAN’T BREATHE". Now MamasBoy works with police departments so he did a little follow up on the phone calls. Nothing made any sense and he still couldn’t figure it out. He even called me to ask if I was in on the joke...I played dumb (and let me tell you-I am so good at that you would think it was real- hey-watch your mouth-I heard that)...I told him I had no idea what was going on.

Finally, when he was to the point of being totally freaked out, a box arrived at his door. I think he was afraid to open it-although he swore he wasn’t. Inside was a note that said- GOT YOU DUMMY! And so they had!

Here’s the sad thing-He has learned to throw his voice and make the stupid thing talk. You know what is even worse? He bought another one at a garage sale and now Mortimer has a friend, Willis. Here’s what’s even sadder-he uses them to scare Tpot’s kids..Hmmmm...I wonder who the real dummy is.....

The Church Lady

I married a Catholic. We are not Catholic anymore but that is another story for another day. In the early years of marriage, when our kids were quite young, we attended the Catholic church every Sunday. That was before the "baby rooms" or "kids rooms" were part of the church. That was the days when you sat with your kids packed between you like sardines in a row and prayed that they would not misbehave too much during the service. Sometimes God does NOT answer prayers.

Communion time seemed to provide the best opportunity for acting up. You had an audience that could watch the whole story of your family life unfold. We usually lined the kids up single file and sandwiched them between us when we went forward to receive Communion. One bright Sunday morning as MyHero stepped forward to take communion Tpot peeked her head around him, leveled her gaze at the priest and asked loud enough for anyone in the back row (& you know who you back-rowers are) to hear, "Is there any peanut butter up der in that JesusChrist breadbox?" Shocked silence descended on all those around us. Is it any suprise the priest didn’t answer? Is it any surprise that I let her live to be 5? MyHero, of course, never missed a beat. He blindly moved forward as though he had no idea who owned the question left hanging in the air leaving me to deal with the aftermath.

"Tpot, keep going"-I hissed between my teeth as she stood there still staring up at the priest. . You know, I think most everything is funny-except when it happens in church. Then I am convinced that the Devil is dogging my heels and warring with God who is trying to spare me and keep me from committing holy murder. I am also convinced that God has a great sense of humor.....read on......

The next Sunday we decided to go forward for Communion and leave the 4 kids sitting in the pew. The first mistake we made was leaving the oldest (age 10) in charge of 3 kids under 5! The 2nd mistake was leaving my purse tucked into the edge of the pew. After we recieved communion, and started back towards our seats, we heard a smattering of muffled laughter here and there. As most of you know, you walk to your seat with you hands clasped and your eyes downcast. I now realize that your hands are clasped so that you can’t beat your children in church. The full horror of what was happening did not dawn on me until I got to my pew.
The contents of my purse were spread out along the pew. Tpot had a tampon (in a tube-the only way you can purchase them) in her hand. It was nicely elevarted in the air for everyone to enjoy. She was pushing it up out of the tube and then pulling it back in-in & out-in & out. Not to be outdone, Mimi had a tube of lipstick and my compact out and the whole bottom of her face was covered with bright pink lipstick (yep-brights were popular that year). Topping the entertainment on tap was MamasBoy., He had a partial plate containing one front tooth(don’t even ask why that was in my purse because you wouldn’t believe it anyway) held in his sweaty little hand and was making biting motions (accompanied by a hiss) at the people in the pews behind him. At that moment I started praying that the aisle would open up and allow me to drop to my death. By now you are asking- Where is the "watchdog" that we left in charge? Well, he is picking his nose and staring up at the ceiling. Of course he is!

We didn’t worry too much about being embarrassed in that church in future weeks. The next week MyHero took a job in Florida. We moved & found a church where no one recognized us. See, God is good! Now, if YOU are very good, and promise not to swear in church, one day very soon I will tell you our Florida church story. It is even better than this one~

Little Lulu-Literally

Little Miss Literal was looking a bit sad and woe-be-gone the other day. "Lulu, are you blue today?" I asked her. "No, Nana-I’m human colored!" Okaaaayyy then.....I forgot how very literal this child is.

One day she is riding along with TPot who is cruising stations on the radio. If you have ever ridden with someone like this you know that you would like to beat them. Sadly, the law prevents it. Oooohhh..listen it’s a preacher on the radio....He intones at the end of his sermon (which we have been privy to catch the tail end of-thank you very much, TPot). He intones- "Without God we are but dust." We hear a stricken intake of breath in the backseat. "What’s the matter, Lulu?’ comes the unified question. "Oh no!" What? What is it? What is wrong...we are fearing the worst, of course...you know...wet pants....spilled milk....gum stuck in her hair....spilled milk....ink on the seat...spilled milk...oh, wait, I already said that, didn’t I?".. What’s wrong? Qaveringly she asks..."What is BUTT dust?" What? WHAT? What are you talking about? "Well, the guy on the radio says that without God we are BUTT dust!" I am stricken with laughter that bubbles up and flows out of my mouth before I can cover it up. TPot has spewed her Starbucks (oh-so-expensive -but-ever-so-good coffee out through her nose). Suspiciously, from the back seat, comes the dreaded (and oft repeated) question...."WHAT’S SO FUNNY?" TPot pretends she is coughing (which provides her with an excuse not to answer) As for me, my stomach aches from holding back the hysterical laughter that is trying to push it’s way up and out. . I give her the standard answer that every parent/grandparent uses to cover up every laugh at the child’s expense- "Nothing’s funny"- I start praying (quietly and to myself)...please, God, pleeeeease, don’t let her ask that again.

By now, however, she has become distracted by something out the window. "Hey look," she cries, Why is that dog walking that man?

You know what I think? I can’t wait until she starts dating and the first guy asks her for a kiss. Knowing her she will say, "Yes" and reach into her purse and pull out one of Hershey’s finest inventions ever-tinfoil covered and melt-in-your-mouth good- The Hershey Kiss~Yep- that’s what I am thinking~

TPot The Terror Monday

It's a good thing I was already pregnant with daughther #2, Mimi, before TPot turned one or she would never have had a sister. You might think that your children were naughty but, believe me, they could not hold a candle to the TPot.

When she was little she was fascinated by dark-skinned people. Why? Who knows? She was always coloring her dolls faces brown (or black, or green-just depended on the day). And~Oh My~ how she loved her sister, Mimi! She loved her so much she wanted her to be dark-skinned too. She discovered that there were two ways to do it. One day as Mimi was sitting in her diaper, in her high chair, minding her own sweet little business, the TPot got into the pantry (this was BEFORE we put a lock on it-yes we did). She got out some Crisco. She rubbed Crisco all over Mimi's head and shoulders and arms. Hmmmm-Why did she do that you ask~ good question. It was so that when she dumped the Hershey's cocoa over Mimi it would stick. Let me remind you at this point, never spend 2 minutes in the bathroom by yourself if there are 2 kids that you can't see from a sitting position. When I walked into the kitchen I was met with the sweet chorus of "Surprise-Look~ it's a choculut baby!" Just what I always wanted. Can you say Bath & Bed for both?
Undaunted by her first experiment, she set out to darken poor little Mimi's skin on a deeper level. Ahhhh..BLACK magic markers to the rescue! And where, pray tell, does a 2 year old get a magic marker? Well, MyHero, of course because "she wanted something to draw with"! It was a warm, sulty summer day. Mimi is in her cutest little white sundress....ah...sundress...that means sleeveless, of course. She is playing with her blocks. TPot picks up her arm and proceeds to color it from wrist to armpit with black magic marker. Hmmm...this works pretty good she thinks...let's try the other arm....ooooohhh...SOOOO good.....let's do both legs too! Wait- OH NO-here comes Mama-Here quick...shove the magic marker into Mimi' hands. Mama...Mama...Mama...look - Mimi's a brack baby and she dooed it all hursulf. uh-huh....and chickens have teeth.


TPot had other wonderful qualities too (besides the artistic ones I have touted above). She was a climber extraordinare! She would climb the shelves in the kitchen pantry to get the cookies (or treats) that were on the top shelf. We finally put a hook style lock on the very top of the door thinking that would deter her. Wrongo! I came up the stairs one day with a loaded laundry basket (Lord~are you EVER done with laundry when you have kids? Or husbands?)...anyway, there she was. She was standing on a chair and balancing Mimi on her shoulders (OMG-it makes my heart start speeding up just remembering it). Mimi had, in her hands, a wooden spoon and she was trying to push the lock open. I very softly asked (so I didn't scare them and have Mimi come toppling down), "What ARE you doing?" TPot looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Nothing". I lifted Mimi down and started to scold TPot. She was never one to back down and say Sorry. She tilted her little chin up towards the sky and said, "It was Mimi's idea"! "No kidding?!?!" I asked her if she'd like a beating but she politely declined. I think she was what an earlier generation refered to as a willful child.


You know the funny part about this? I used to wish she'd have a child just like her...and guess what? I think my wish came true!

The Farmer In The Smell

Remember the old children's song The Farmer In The Dell? Well, this is the real version of that! My friend, Sandy (her real name-hahaha-GOTCHA girl), lives on a farm. It was always her dream to live on a farm. She loved cows and horses and the smell of hay curing in the sun. She was the perfect "farmer’s wife". (Or so we thought). Guess what she did? After a rocky first marriage she met and married the man of her dreams~Larry-yep-that’s his real name too. Lo and behold, he was a farmer. They farmed. She loved the sound of the cows lowing in the barn. She adored the kittens that scampered across the barn floor and snuck them into the house when Larry wasn't looking. She had a house cat & a dog & a horse. A perfect life on the perfect farm. Ah...yes...but, as we all know, all good things must come to an end. Sadly, Larry decided they should move off the family farm and transport themselves a state or so away to another farm. Fine...no problem....Sandy’s a good sport. She likes farming & her Mom & Dad can come visit. There's one small glitch- she and I are now even further apart-oh well, we’ll just stay longer when we do get together.
They pack up the house and move way out to the wilds of Minnesota. You have to watch a movie about Minnesota to understand da language now dere, hey? Well, that sounds nice, you think. Right? A nice farm-just in another state. That’s what Sandy thought too. Then, the proverbial shoe dropped (right in the sty)! They were moving to a PIG farm. She cried, she whined, she liked to have died! A PIG farm?!?! OH NO! But, sure enough~ soon the barns were up and the little piglets started rolling in. The barns are a far piece from the house so I can’t smell them at all. Sandy swears she can-especially on a day where the wind is on the down blow- and let me tell you, where they are- the wind NEVER stops blowing! Hang your sheets out and plan on the mailman picking them up about 3 farms down. Summer isn’t so bad but those winter winds will freeze the words coming out of your mouth. Somewhere around April all those words come back to haunt you and Larry finally finds out what was aggravating Sandy around Christmas time.
Well, I love my friend and I missed her. She had already been to visit me several times. It's my turn to visit her. I’m a good sport too. I decide to pack up TPot and Lulu (Lucy & SweetCheeks were but a glint in TheBrawnyMan’s eye back then) and head off to the farm. When Sandy & I get together it is like "coming home". We are like sisters that didn’t grow up together. We have an uncommon bond. We have a more common bond too- We don’t like pigs! Now, Larry, being an all around nice guy, gave Sandy the go-ahead to use the real barn (not the pig barn down the road) for some "other animals". What does she have? She has POLISH chickens. Ever see them? They look like chickens with the wrong heads. They own the place. They are proud and loud! She also has pigmy goats~ which are about the cutest things I ever saw. They are so cute that they will eat the clothes off your butt if you stand in one place too long. She has kittens and more kittens...and some calves.
When we get there we are sure our little Miss Lulu is going to love the kittens and the goats. We line her up in front of the stall and she peeks in at the little goats.
She licks the stall (yes she licked everything-windows, doors, floors). The baby goats nibble her fingers and she laughs. The kittens are curling round her legs as she walks but does she care? No! She is conserving all of her energy to chase those stinking chickens. "Lulu, don’t you want to pet the kitties?", we ask! "NO Nana, I wike dose hickens". Great! And they are SO user friendly (NOT). We spent 3 days there and not once did we get close enough to even see if they had eyes. As soon as they saw us coming they "runned away". Not to be outdone by Sandy’s dog, Scooter, who also "runned away". Scooter is not his real name but I don't remember it and Scooter fits! We would be several miles from home and see Scooter out for his daily jog. We thought he was training for the 300 mile sprint but were unable to ascertain that fact. One day he started running and never stopped. Only God knows where that crazy dog ended up-he's probably still running.
The best part about our visit to The Farm? I lost 5 pounds in 3 days chasing ugly chickens. Yep! I’m thinking of going back and taking SweetCheeks (who hasn’t been there yet) and staying for a month- If I get lucky and SHE likes the chickens I might lose another 20 pounds!

Like I said before, I love my friend. I would visit her anywhere~ her work place, prison, heck yes-even the pig farm. However, I will close with one tip for y’all. If you are visiting a pig farm-do it on a mildly cool day with the wind on the upswing. You'll be glad you did.
pssssst~ (Sandy...please don’t send me a hate letter-you know I love ya)

Who Let The Dogs Out?

Or, in our case, it would be who let the cats out? Our cats were always contained...confined...locked up...whatever you want to call it. They were "contained" because TPot had allergies (or said she had allergies-her eyes would itch and get red and swell- of course that can be faked with a bit of lotion accidentally swabbed into the eyelid). I think she just didn't like cats...oh wait....TheBrawnyMan has allergies too and I don't think he would fake it? A match made in heaven- star crossed & divine? hmmmm...

Anyway, the cats lived in our lower level where we slept with them at night and they were in the 'garden room" during the day. I should be so lucky-spend all day in the sun-filled room laying around and eating whenever I felt like it. I think in my next life I will try to come back as a big fat pampered house cat-Watch your mouth-I heard that comment about the fat, pampered part. Okay-for all the Christians in the group I DO NOT REALLY BELIEVE I will come back in a 2nd life as a housecat....a plant maybe...but not a cat.

We have (had-they are no longer here-don't ask cuz then I will start crying and that is NOT pretty) 2 cats....Misty & Mozart. Misty ~ a sweet little dream cat-Mozart - a @#$%#! er, sorry, he is a BAD BOY! MyHero picked him out of a line up. We could have had our pick of the litter-all were sleeping and purring and licking themselves nicely (or as nice as a cat CAN lick itself)Here is my piece of advice-never kiss a cat on the lips. Anyway, MyHero picked him out because he had personality! What does THAT mean? That means while all the other nice, docile little kitties were sunning themselves Mozart was jumping and diving and climbing and hissing and spitting. MyHero thought he was the cutest cat he had ever seen. He likes Jim Carey at his most frenetic if that gives you a clue. So, The Chosen came to live with us. Misty hated him on sight-almost as much as she hated the sight of SweetCheeks coming at her with open arms. We are talking ears laid back, hissing hate. He is twice her size and could lay her flat but No! He is scared-he is scared of a girl cat half his size....the wuss. When he was a few weeks old we could not keep him from climbing the curtains-literally- so, we did what all good cat people do (except for the purists who think you should not alter any animal in any way-but that's another topic for another day). We took him to have him de-clawed-front only-I am not a totally mean person-at least with back claws he can defend himself if need be. While we were at the vets I asked them if they could remove his teeth too. The girl (not understanding my sense of humor) very seriously said, "No"in a very stern matter...she looked mean so I didn't bother explaining that I was kidding. Eventually Misty and Mozart called an uneasy truce. Mozart did not look Misty straight in the face and she would not attack him...worked for her.

The grandkids love the kitties-they want to spend all their time with them. What is wrong with this picture? How do they get into (and out of) the area without opening the door? hmmm...Ain't gonna happen. Open the door...Child #1 slips through- Mozart runs out. Capture cat. Return to room...Child #1 slips back inside and closes the door. Child #2 fumbles the door open...Wait...wait...calls Child #1. Misty is right by the door-I'll hold her- Child#2 fumbles the door open...Mozart runs out a 2nd time. This time he runs faster and the chase is longer. Meanwhile, SweetCheeks is crying because she hasn't gotten INSIDE the room yet to play with the cats. Capture cat...return to room. Lulu is holding Misty (who does not like being held), Lucy is carrying Mozart back in and SweetCheeks makes her race through the door-Ah! Home free....cats and kids inside. Let the games begin...wait...wait...what's that I hear? Knocking from the other side of the door-It's SweetCheeks~ Nana-I gotta go potty! The door opens and both cats race out the door and disappear into a room in the basement where the faint of heart will not go. I, for one, am not going in there after them. For this is one thing I know~They will return- I have fish!

POSTING A COMMENT

Hi guys- It has been brought to my attention (by a few of you) that you were unable to post a comment. You must select who you are posting as- It might be your name or anonymous then you must hit the preview button before you post-It will pop your message up (so you can see it before you actually post it-in case you have said something awful (or worse, stupid). If you are pleased with your post you can then Hit POST. I thank you very much and my motto is- Look for the humor in your day-If you're going to shed tears let them be tears of joy! Hey-that is a great motto (if I do say so myself). I think that is gonna be my "sign out" from here on out. Later, my friends-NanaDiana

Get Up-Are You Up-GET UP!!!

Good Morning!
Are you up yet? Have you had your cup of coffee to bring you into full consciousness? I have one of those stinking pots that has a mind of its own. It will "automatically" start your coffee at a certain time everyday. I set it with all good intentions of getting up at a certain time and having a steaming cup of brew waiting for me. All well and good-but how does the thing KNOW exactly what time I going to get up? How do I know exactly what time I am going to get up? If you have one of these suckers you know what I am talking about. If you set it to start at 5:45 AM you can guarantee any employer that you are going to wake up by 5:00 AM. So, you will be at work on time but your coffee will NOT be ready when you get up. You stumble out of bed and head for the coffee pot-ooooppsss...make that head for the bathroom and THEN the coffee pot. You look at the pot-You stare it fully in the face-it is NOT running. By now you are fuming, and trying to keep your cool. You push the START button and wonder why you paid extra for a machine that you can program. Aha! See I know you better than you thought.

Everyone has their little pet name for coffee- Java, Cuppa Joe, Beans, or as I like to call it, SHOCK' ER. I stand by the coffee pot mumbling to myself. I am waiting for the perfect time to snatch a cup from the running stream. That is because I am too impatient for the drip machine to finish brewing. They call it drip for a reason, you know. Drip-drip-drip-annoying as the devil and it takes forever. So, if you wait until the pot is almost full the coffee is not too strong and tastes hot and good. However, there is a finite point in coffee brewing. If you wait TOO long to snatch a cup all the flavor is out of the beans and you essentially have a cup of tainted hot water...if you interrupt the flow to the pot too SOON you get something I call LAURIE'S COFFEE....yes, yes...you know who you are. You are the one that makes a pot full of coffee using the instructions on the side of the can (which truly makes overwhelmingly strong coffee-they are not stupid-the more coffee you use the more you buy-Presto! Money in their pockets) and then, my aforementioned friend, you ADD a few scoops just to ensure that it is good for a jolt. Her "special person" , who shall remain unnamed, had perfectly nice DARK hair when I first met him....a few years of Laurie's coffee and VIOLA- he now has a head of perfectly beautiful WHITE hair! (Geez-maybe there is something worth marketing there)...hmmm...

Do you know the best coffee I can have in the morning? Starbucks! Yes! That's right-Starbucks! I am Starbucks best customer. They know me by name, they know my drink, and they recogonize my Oh-so-special Gold REWARDS Starbucks card. They fill my cup inside and hand it out through a window so I can drive to work. Why am I working at this age, you ask? I'll tell you why! It's because I am addicted to Starbucks! Addictions cost MONEY! To get coffee money (without listening to you-know-who complain every time he sees a Starbucks cup about how much it costs- I think his exact words are, "Diana, do you KNOW HOW MUCH THIS COSTS to drink Starbucks every day?"- I think that's exact-if not, it's close)...where did I leave off in that sentence- oh, yeah....To get coffee money for MY OWN coffee- I go to work! Simple as that-they give me cash and I turn it over to Starbucks......OR.....I turn it over on cute little clothes for the grandkids....but that is another addiction to be discussed another day. My coffee is waiting........Have a good morning!

Just Another Day In Paradise

Well, whoever said being a grandparent was the most fun they ever had was right- most of the time, that is. Except for the puking and coughing and "NO-I SAID NO!" moments, being a Nana is just about the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me- well, except for the time I punched my brother in the arm and the stone had fallen out of my ring and it left big prong marks in his arm but we don't like to talk about that in front of the kids. Well, my brother does but he likes to use me for the bad example in the family. You know, everyone has a purpose in life, even if it is to serve as a bad example for others. You can quote me on that. Well, you can quote me on just about anything I say-even if most of what I say isn't worth quoting. But then, you aren't paying a dime to read this so don't expect anything too grand.

I am so excited to have a blog I could just spit...but I won't because then I would have to clean it up myself....just like I clean up everyone else's spit, snot, puke-you name it- I have cleaned it. They never told me that when I had grandkids I would have the pleasure of re-experiencing all the puking and spitting I had previously enjoyed with my own children. Why did they neglect to mention that I wonder?

No-when they tell you about being a grandparent it is about how cute the kids look all dressed up for Mother's Day. They forgot the part about all the slime that will be coated down the front of that sweet, lilacs-oh-so-cute (with lace, of course) little dress that matches their beribboned hair. Oh, yeah, and don't forget about all the bits and pieces of the meal that have embedded themselves IN the hair. I especially appreciate the pancake syrup. That is always a nice mess to clean up. So, when Sweet Cheeks asks, "Nana-I wanna have some pahnscakes wid sirrrup, okay?" I sweetly respond-"NO PANCAKES!". Ah! See, I have discovered her trick. She doesn't eat the pancakes. She pours the syrup on her plate and licks it off when I turn my head. When I am watching her dead on she is contemplating that pancake like it is the most delicious thing she has ever seen. When I turn to her sister-Watch out- it is face in the plate and it goes downhill from that point on.

I need to end this now. The 3 year old is ripping the pages out of a library book that belongs to the school the 7 year old attends. That should be fun to explain tomorrow! I guess I'd better start taping before the crying starts. Later my friends~