Thursday, August 30, 2012

Oh, my goodness....

First comes love,

 then comes marriage.

In March comes a grandbaby
in a baby carriage!
We could not be happier, less patient, more excited, less giggly or more proud about this wonderful news from Jordan and Chris. 

 It's amazing how grandparents seem so young once you become one. ~Author Unknown

Thursday, August 23, 2012



I'm not talking about borrowing money....because we do have a mortgage and a relationship with American Express.

I'm talking about borrowing things that we do not own but have a need for. 

There have been numerous times when we have borrowed something successfully and returned items intact.  But there are three instances that stand out in my mind where I firmly believe God was telling me "DO NOT BORROW THINGS."  Well, God or one of his angels.  Like the angel in charge of thumping us on the head when we make the same mistake continually. Sadly, it took me a while to catch on.

First story:

When I was pregnant with Will, Chuck's brother was graduating from college.  I needed a maternity dress to wear to the ceremony and just happened to mention it in a "small talk" conversation with my neighbor, who was also pregnant at the time.  (This was 1990, a dress was required for a graduation ceremony...I guess)  I didn't ask her if I could borrow one, I just mentioned I was going to have to go shopping for one.

A day later, this neighbor showed up at my back door with one of her maternity dresses.  I thanked her kindly, told I would try it on later and hung it up on the rod in my laundry room.  Here's the thing...a) it wasn't really my style, b) I really wanted to buy a new dress and c) I didn't want to hurt her feelings so I told her I would try it on. 

The next day, I head in to the laundry room to grab the dress to try on.  I pull it off the rod and as it's now facing me I see a huge bleached spot.  HUGE.  BLEACHED.  SPOT.  This spot wasn't there when she handed me the dress.  And now it was.  I had no idea how it happened....just assumed I must have had some bleach on the washer or dryer and the dress touched it as I swung it up on the rod.  Only me. 

I have to tell her.  So I practice my speech....including how sorry I am and that I have no idea how it happened...I would even offer to pay her for the dress...that I she could at least buy another dress to replace this one.

I tell her all of this and she says, "okay, it was about $50." 

This was 1990.  Fifty dollars is like a hundred now.  For a used, not my style, maternity dress. High frustration level here because I did not even ask to borrow this dress.  She showed up at my back door with it.

I paid her the money and still had to go out and buy a dress.

Broker than I started.

Second story:

Our daughters were going on a ski trip with the church youth group.  We are not a skiing family so have no closet full of ski clothes.  My sister-in-law and her family are a skiing family so have a closet full of ski clothes.  I buy one jacket for one daughter and ask my sister-in-law if she has an old ski jacket that we could borrow....trying to save a little money here knowing we won't be using these ski clothes again.  She has one I can borrow. 

Fast forward to the trip.  My daughter has on the borrowed ski jacket and is skiing when she had a severe accident.  She is rushed to a local hospital where they immediately cut off the jacket.  CUT.  OFF.  THE.  JACKET. 

My daughter is okay but suffered a broken arm, is very banged up and suffered a mild head injury.   The jacket is the least of my worries at this time.  However, I do tell my sister-in-law about the jacket....and offer to pay for it.  She says, "okay, it was about $150."

I paid her the money.

Broker than I started. 

Of course, at this point all I cared about was that my daughter was okay.  Still.  Only me.  Only us.

Third story:

Will was getting his first apartment in college and we were rounding up furniture.  He is lent a white leather sectional from my daughter's boyfriend who found it by a dumpster and then used it himself for a year......with other college boys and Labrador retrievers abusing it even further.  This was "offered" to Will not asked for by Will.  But accepted, nevertheless. 

The sofa was huge and heavy and filthy.  We (mostly me) spent hours scrubbing it with Magic Erasers to get it clean.  Turns out only one part of the L shaped sectional will fit in Will's tiny apartment.  So the other half is up in my game room...otherwise known as The Furniture Cemetery.

A year goes by...the boyfriend is now an ex...and he needs his sofa back. 

Oh.  My.  Goodness. 

Will tells me he (the ex) wants to come get it but he has a love seat Will can use.

And it is at this point that I go in to another orbit.....verbally. 
Because Chuck has to rent a U-Haul trailer and he and Will drive up to Nacogdoches (round trip in one day...$$$ for gas and meals) to get one half of a sectional that was found at a dumpster, heavily abused, lent to us, cleaned by us and now costing us time and money. 
Broker than we started.
So don't even think about lending me something. 
Or my husband. 
Or any kid that I'm still financially responsible for.
The answer is no.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

Why I Don't Play Any Sports

I've had a hard day.  Not the worst day ever but the kind of day that started out crappy and went downhill.  Tears have been building pressure at the backs of my eyeballs all day long. 

How my day started....

I fixed my coffee...first checking the Keurig water reservoir for ants...yes, ants....and sure enough there were a couple floating in there.  We have ants...apparently Pharoah ants...still...and finally called an exterminator.  He quoted us a $150.00 service fee with no guarantee that they would go away or that they wouldn't come back.  Well, never mind then...that's what we have going on for free now.  So we cancelled and are totally frustrated while the ants are winning.

Bad mood begins.

I took my coffee (with either no ants or a boiled ant) and a sack of goodies upstairs to wrap so I could mail a package to Jordan. While in the craft room, I saw Will come out of the guest room.

Me:  Why did you sleep in there?

Will:  'Cause Sadie's Anal Gland popped and got all over my sheets.

Sorry, I should have warned you that was coming....but I had no warning either.

Bad mood cranks up a notch.

Yeah.  So you're on my side now aren't you?  Sadie is our 7 year old chihuahua with a vacant anal gland now.


And now 2 sets of sheets have to be washed.  On.  My.  Day.  Off.

Only I pitched a little menopausal fit and Will washed the sheets as well as cleaned his room.  Because the fit will be blamed on menopause I will call it that...but it's really because I saw piles of stuff spilling out of the gameroom and Will's room. 

Then, I ran a million errands in this ridiculous heat and fought off the need to cry all day.  Does it ever hit you like that? 

Bad mood taking precedent over everything. 

So by 5 I call Chuck and tell him I need a margarita.  He says okay because he's nice like that. 

I come home from errands and he comes home from work.   He checks the mail then says he's ready to go. He heads out to the car while I finish getting ready.  I am met at the back door by Harry and a tennis ball.  I usually give him a treat when I leave but Chuck was waiting so I was in a hurry.  I decide to throw the ball outside for him a substitute "treat." 

I pick up the ball, throw back my hand and bring it forward to let go of the ball....I believe it's called throwing.  Only, my hand was stopped mid-air by the door frame. 

My.  Hand. Was. Stopped.  By.  A. Door. Frame.  Ohhhhhhhhhh.  Myyyyyyyyyy.  GAAAAAAAHH.

So now I really have something to cry about.  I felt my brain waves and heart beat in the end of my thumb and wanted to gag for at least 30 minutes.  We still headed out to eat and the margarita helped. 

But this is why I don't play any sports.  Balls hurt me.  Or do some crazy magnetic thing to my brain making my arm go in the exact opposite direction I want it to causing door frames to jump out at me.


And if you're here because I'm on your Google Reader or you just check in now and then, I am so grateful.  I am obviously in a little funk.  It's Houston, it's hot.  I am busy but can think of nothing to write about...except anal glands and smashed thumbs, lucky for you. 

I work all day and crash at night with Harry by my side. 

Do not give up on me.

 But count me out if you need an extra player on your team.