"O Canada"

Or....considering the way my day's gone so far....Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh Canada!

Now, I'm not blaming Canada for my problems. It could be our (the USA) fault, their's, UPS's, or (most likely) a combination of all three. I must give this disclaimer 'cause I have two ....er.... Canadian friends (?) to whom I seem to be the embodiment of the USA and alllllllll its perceived problems. I mean, out of the blue they'll look at me and say things like -- you know, our (Canada's) money does NOT have your (USA) symbols on it. Or they'll say -- I hope you know that most of the world doesn't like you (USA....at least I guess they mean the country and not me personally). Then they follow up by sending me articles to prove their point. ....O-KaaaAAAAaaaay.

The above paragraph has nothing to do with what happened today. :/

Back on point. While sitting in the chair in my stylist's shop waiting for the color she's smeared on my head to work its magic, I decide that I really need to mail those packages I've been carrying around in the back seat of my car. So, after the grey roots have gone Kur-Poof! I get in the car and head to my neighborhood hardware store to have them ship the packages. Of course that's after I stop by the little shop in front of my hairdresser's and buy 4 (yes, four bottles of oil for my lamp Berger). They were on sale.

Sheesh! I can't seem to keep on topic today.

OK. Onward to the hardware store. Arrive at store. Walk unsteadily (balancing three awkward boxes) to UPS shipping desk. (Along the way I'm stopped and engaged in conversation with one of the friendly workers. ....Which is probably why, all day, my brain has been trying to finish up the ditty: 'Ace is the place with....')

Well, since this post may never make it to the end, let me explain something else of absolutely no relevance. You see, with my husband traveling the way he does I'm a frequent customer of the hardware store, and I'm usually frantic (and clueless) when I go in. Something's broken at my house and I don't have any idea how to fix it. So....I go to the hardware store, tell them my problem, and (bless them) they always have a suggestion (and a tool, or something) for fixing the problem. That's why we have such a special relationship.

OK. I'm (finally) at the UPS shipping counter. First package (to Michigan) weighed, measured, label printed. Done. Second package (to Ohio) weighed, measured, label printed. Done. Third package (the one to Canada) weighed, measured.... uh oh, label won't print. Manager called. He has no clue. They tell me I'm the first person to ship internationally from the store. (!) I sense this isn't going to progress smoothly so I start (gently) suggesting that I'll ship package #3 later. (Meaning, of course, that I'll take it to a regular UPS shipping place.) Oh, no! they say. We need to learn how to do it in case you or someone else needs this service again. (which i won't!)

So, after three (male) employees confer (has anyone else ever noticed that men must do things in groups?), they decide to call the UPS help number. Mèrde! I stand there, smiling. Why do I do that??

OK. Problem fixed. FYI: Canadian zip codes are: letter, number, letter, number (or vice versa, I forget). Apparently I had copied what should have been a 'zero' as an 'o'. But..uh oh. Label still won't print. There's too much info to fit the address blank. Male employee asks me if 'such and such' is the street number. I say I have no idea. That I know nothing about Canada except that some of them don't like me/us very much. I start feeling foolish, and when I'm feeling foolish I usually start jibber-jabbering which makes me look (and feel) even more foolish. I tell the male employee that I don't really know the woman I'm sending the package to except over the net. Of course he's a male and couldn't care less about that type of information, but....the female employee standing nearby is interested. So I tell her the story of how I know this lovely Canadian lady I'm (attempting) to send a package. The story involves homeschooling, message boards, hurricanes, traveling and is waaaaaaay l-o-n-g. But even after my long story the frickin' label still won't print. Another call to UPS help desk. Crap-ola.

OK. Problem fixed. (Yeah. Sure.) UPS help person says we/I need phone number of person package is being shipped to -- which I have....at my house. So, I zip home, get phone # and zip back to hardware store. My guy has just left for lunch. In all fairness he didn't think I was coming back that soon. Manager tells me I can just leave the phone #, pay, and they'll handle it. Hallelujah! This had become a personal challenge. That package was going to get mailed TODAY! ....Or so I hoped.

So I head to Target and spend way too much time and money. And....I discover that there is a Lowe's and a Best Buy being built righ smack dab next to Target. These stores will be almost within walking distance of me -- if it were possible to walk along the busy two-lane road with open ditches on the side without being killed or maimed. And can anyone tell me why they are building these big-box stores in such a place?

OK. Back home. I feel good (like James Brown). Packages shipped. Stuff I really don't need in Target bags. Excited about Lowe's and Best Buy -- even tho I'll bitch about the added traffic. Now to make a pot of coffee. But....wait. The red light on the answer machine is blinking. Check caller id. It's the hardware store.

I have got to end this post that's lost its way, so -- long story short. I make yet another trip to hardware store because there is a form that must be signed giving power or attorney to 'someone.' (WTF!) While at the store, after yet another call to UPS help desk, the super-friendly employee who's helping me (and who I think has taken getting this package shipped to Canada as a personal challenge also) realizes that he never needed to make that last call to the help desk because the instructions had been printed out with the power of attorney form. He made a point of showing me. And....in the end, a store employee (and not me) needed to sign the form. Which means I didn't need to be back there after all. :/ He did let me sign the witness blank....

I must give the employee some brownie points or something, because he didn't have to tell me that he'd messed up and had me make an unnecessary trip. Had I been him, I don't think I'd have had the courage.

So my packages were all shipped. (What a waste of space this post has been.)

Shrimp......

Left-over boiled shrimp = quick and easy shrimp casserole for supper the next night.

That was the idea anyway. Of course, I had to shell the shrimp (which is no fun, but worth it in the end). Unfortunately, that's where I ran into my problem, because the process ended up going like this: Shell, shell, shell, eat one, shell, shell, shell, eat one, shell, shell, eat one, shell, eat one, shell, eat one, eat one.... Can you tell where this is going?

After all the eating work shelling the shrimp, I ended up with a much smaller amount than the recipe called for. So....I had to make a smaller casserole than intended, then...boil corn, make slaw, fix hushpuppies, and make more mint tea since I drank much of the first batch while eating preparing the shrimp.

Left-over boiled shrimp (doesn't necessarily) = quick and easy supper the next night.


And while we're speaking of shrimp -- I love the way they interchange 'shrimp' and 'shrimps' down here. While standing in line to buy some shrimp, it's not at all unusual to hear someone say, "Give me 5 pound of shrimps." Or, "I'm gonna boil me some shrimps tonight." Part on the spice of south Louisiana, I guess.

"Laws are like sausages. It’s better not to see them being made.”

This was supposedly said by a nineteenth-century German statesman Otto von Bismarck (and I lifted it from that savvy website "The Dead Pelican" who passed it along from theind.com). That quote was used to describe the end of the Louisiana Legislature’s 85-day regular session. ....Was it only yesterday they slithered out of town?

We try and watch what they are doing but....Sheesh! So, today, the good citizens of Louisiana are frantically attempting to uncover some of the dirty-deeds committed by our brightest & best. It's not that hard because of the stench that attaches itself to some of their acts.

E-mails and phone calls to our guv's office have kept me busy this morning -- Pu-leeeze! Don't sign 'this or that' bill. That's why when A called and asked if I was watching the USA/Ghana soccer game, I had to say no. (I had the game on, but the sound muted. Which....as it turned out, wasn't a bad idea.)

So, sine die, to the LA Legislature and the USA soccer team.

Life as a Crime Scene Technician

One of my daughter (A's) many brief jobs was as a Crime Scene Tech (CST). She thought it was so cool -- at first -- before the 1st dead body -- and being woken up at 3am and having to go to a crime scene. It wasn't long before the car, the uniform, the crime processing kit and that special comradery lost its luster.

One of her many duties was to go to the jail on Mondays and finger print and take mug shots of the non-law abiding citizens who had been arrested over the weekend. It was amazing how many of the guys asked her out. (I wonder if they really thought they had a chance? I mean, come on now, a jump suite is not that becoming. ....and handcuffs and ankle chains don't help either.)

But....the following might explain a lot: While processing them, she had to ask for pertinent info such as name, age, address, etc. Here's how one exchange went.

'A' asks: "Name."

'Offender' answers: "John Jones"

'A' asks: "Jr.? Sr.?"

'Offender' answers: "No, ma'am. I dropped out of school in 8th grade."

I love New Orleans......

I really do. But....it's a frickin' difficult job to keep defending her. And getting harder by the day.

Maybe it's the idea of New Orleans I love. ....Sort of like France. Good food! Good drink! Good music! The whole l'art de vivre. (Maybe the English have a point when they 'supposedly' say, "love France — pity about the French.")

Oh, well. Laissez les bon temps rouler!

C'est la vie ! I guess.

October in New York City....or....Why do I keep answering the phone?

Last Tuesday: Life is good. One of my planned 'me days' -- when I forget about all the to-do's that need to be done and indulge myself. Delicious!

A leisurely pot of strong coffee. A long-overdue talk with a good friend. A plate of angel hair pasta marinara and a glass of good red wine. A perfect day to enjoy some tentative planning for that trip to NYC I so want to take in October -- I have a hotel reservation (which is cancelable).


In the midst of the planning, the phone rings.


Brring! Brring! ....Hello.

Hi, Mom! (It's son #3.) What cha doing?

Hi, J. I'm not doing much of anything. Just the usual.

Well Mom, guess what I did today? (!)

WHAT!?

I changed my major.

Oh.

Mom! Aren't you even going to ask me what I'm majoring in now?

Do I need to sit down?

Mom!

OK.... Just kidding. Tell me.

I'm majoring in Anthropology.

Ummmm.... That's nice. How many hours will you lose?

Mom! (We continued to talk for an hour or so and he really has researched this and thought it out. So....we'll see.}



Now. Clear mind and get back to trip planning. (After popping a can of beer) :/



Brring! Brring! ....Hello.

Hi, Mom! (My daughter, A.) What cha doing and who have you been talking to?

Hi, A. I'm not doing much of anything. Just the usual. I've been talking to your brother.

Well Mom, guess what I did today? (!)

WHAT!?

I went up to school and talked to Dr. T and guess what?

Do I need to sit down?

Mom!

OK.... Just kidding. Tell me.

I'm readmitted! He said I could take comps this fall and I'll have my ABD.

Oh.

Mom! That's it? Oh?

No, of course not. I'm very glad for you baby. But....what about the new house, the new car, the JOB!!!!????

(We continue to talk for an hour or so and she does have a plan -- of sorts.)



Now. Clear mind and get back to trip planning. (After popping [another] can of beer) :/



Brring! Brring! ....Hello.

Hi, Mom! (It's A ..again) What cha doing? J's here with me.

Hi. I guess you two are sharing your news with each other?

Not exactly. We called to talk about something else. (!) Guess what?

Do I need to sit down?

Maybe.

OK. What?

We're going to London this Christmas.

Mom. Mom? Mom!

I'm here.

Well....

Well what?

Well what do you think?

Well....here's what I think. How in the hell do you two think you're going to have money for London? You're both going to be in school!

Well that's what we called to talk to you about. We just want money for Christmas. And....J's (son #2) going too. And....he's talking to school about going back.

Merde!

Mom. I know what that means.

OK. Let's talk later. OK? (Pop!)




Now. Clear mind and wonder whether to put trip plans (mine) in shredder.




Brring! Brring! Brring! Brring! Brring! Brring! (....Pop!)

I just could be the subject of someone's sermon Sunday morning......

It happened in Wal*Mart. (it can only go downhill from there, huh?) J and I stopped in to pick up a couple of those gallon (at least that's how much they seem to weigh) bottles of Carlo Rossi Sangria. We have this friend who adds all sorts of things to this cheap-o inexpensive wine and ends up with his own killer version of Sangria. So....the afternoon and evening was going to be spent watching World Cup soccer and college baseball and eating.

The menu was Mexican: Nachos, tamales, enchiladas, chips and salsa, guacamole and peanut butter pie.

So into Wal*Mart we go. We load our buggy with wine and head to checkout. After we pay and are walking away from the register we see this man sitting in one of those motorized buggies. He is openly staring at us and as we pass by he asks what's in the big jugs. J(always the joker)replys that it's his wife's (that would be 'me') drink supply for the weekend. Verrrrrry funny!

We wondered why the man didn't laugh, smile, or react until....we heard a woman walk up to him and say, "How are you doin' Reverend...."

The Louisiana Legislature is STILL in Town......

Yes, my lovelies, our esteemed law-makes have once again congregated to further improve this highly-regarded state, and, once again, they are busy bastards as bees. Now that most of our problems have been fixed: our roads are in good condition, our teachers are well-paid, our health care issues have been addressed so that emergency rooms won't need to remove beds in order to remain open, New Orleans is up and running, we have a sound hurricane protection plan in effect, and -- lest we forget -- cock fighting is still alive and well in the state. Thank the good lord for THAT!

Yes, my dears, now that this state is running like a smoothly-oiled machine, it's time to tackle the really important issues....such as which version or the Ten Commandments to display: the Protestant version, the Catholic version, or the Jewish version. Rumor is that those morally upright men and women in the legislature are attempting to come up with a blended version, so to speak.

So, in the name of clarity and simplicity, we will now have four versions of the Ten Commandments. The Protestan version, the Catholic version, the Jewish version, and..dada de dum..the Louisiana version. ....Can't wait to see that one!

I think my neighbor, Lester, is on the right track when he says 'while they're all in one place and easy to get to, lock the whole bunch of 'em up and throw away the key.'

A Stranger to My Own Blog......

I've been really, really lazy re blogging lately. There are reasons -- to be mentioned at a later date. ;) I've been sitting here trying to compose an upbeat post, but nothing's working. I keep hitting the 'delete' key. So....I guess I'll just bitch talk about what's really on my mind tonight.

I heard a local tv anchor say (on air) that she didn't know if she was going to make it through this summer.

Upon hearing that I realized that what I most want to do is leave this place and not look back. It's hot. Temps hit 90's in March/April and haven't let up. It's humid. I would venture that the humidity is around 1090%. Hurricane season's here. All you hear on tv and radio is --personal responsibility; the state gov't can't take care of you so don't expect it to happen (no duh!); no shelters below I-10; shelters won't be listed -- if you need one you'll be told where you're going after you're loaded up on the buses (oh! they're going to actually use the buses this time around??); no you can't pull your FEMA trailer when you're told to evacuate (ummm, can't wait to see the powers-that-be try and stop someone from pulling their trailer containg everything they own out of harm's way); if your FEMA (ew!) trailer is destroyed --tough shit! you'll have to start the process of obtaining a new one all over again; start preparing for a hurricane NOW -- you know what you need so let's get our butts in gear and start buying that water those batteries etc; national guardsmen in New Orleans are learning to drive buses, Baton Rouge can't handle what we have now -- so don't come here; if Baton Rouge takes a hit will the last one to leave the state please turn off the lights (assuming they've been turned back on)....

I know the paragraph above is one big blur and no one can (easily) make any sense of it. That's what it's been sounding like the past couple of weeks around here. Without saying it, people who should be reassuring and instructive are in effect saying: we don't know what to do and the 5th season's started so everybody....JUST RUN! From the atmosphere around town you'd think there was already a storm in the Gulf.

And what is our esteemed legislature doing? Well they are debating 'cock (rooster) fighting'. I think they decided there was no reason to make it illegal. As one proponent said, "I'd rather be a rooster in a rooster fight than a chicken at Burger King."

Isn't it sad that his comment made more sense than anything else we've heard lately?