Little did I know when I started this blog that the title would expand, requiring me to ask this question of so many new situations in my life....

Thursday, March 29, 2007

The cat ate my homework......



Apparently cats really will do things like eating homework. At least that's what son #3 says. Supposedly one of their four cats pounces on J's math assignments and proceeds to chew away.

I suggested he not use that as an excuse for turning in his work late.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Another new home......



They're closing on their new house today -- my daughter, son #3, and two of the other three who are in on the deal. (Actually, T. -- the smart, accomplished, lovely young lady who's had a job the longest is owner of record. But....somehow, someway the rest are all in the deal financially. ....Don't ask me!)

They decided against the house next to the cemetery. [smile] And they were extremely careful about buying this house. They had two inspectors and one structural engineer sign off on the property. ....Carrying two house payments for two months (because the MS house was built in a bowl and had standing water problems that made selling it seem to take f-o-r-e-v-e-r) made them extra cautious this time around.

Their realtor says they got a great deal. (Maybe all realtors say that?) And their realtor says, that after working with them, she told her own daughter she should add another roommate (or two) and invest in a larger house.

Now, I guess I'll have to make my way to North Carolina in a couple of weeks and see things for myself. I'm trying to wait until the actual moving and unpacking and picture hanging and hard work fun stuff like that is fini.

And....A. felt her interview with the FBI went well. And....she got a call yesterday to set up an interview with the Department of Prisions (something to do with fingerprinting). She promises me she was careful to make sure she wouldn't be taking the fingerprints -- she would be double checking/verifying results....or something like that. Still, why am I not jumping for joy.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

The magic drink......



Yes, my friends, Diet Coke is becoming my magic cooking ingredient. (Anyone with access to Weight Watchers will understand immediately....)

Just tonight I've used 1 and 2/3 cans of the elixir to prepare supper. One can for the BBQ sauce to coat the chicken for BBQ chicken sandwiches, and one can in making tonight's dessert.

If you've never made WeightWatcher's Diet Coke Cake -- consider doing so. So easy and so good!

All you do is take a box of cake mix, add a can of diet drink, (I usually add 1/4 C egg substitute or an egg white -- but it's not required), and mix it all up. That's all. Two ingredients (well....three if you add an egg white.) Bake as directed on the box. Top with Cool Whip. It's really not bad for a diet dessert.

The general rule of thumb is to match the color of the cake mix with the diet drink. e.g. chocolate cake mix/Diet Coke -- yellow cake mix/diet Sprite/7-Up -- use your imagination.

So....add some oven fries and we'll be eating semi-healthy tonight.


****What to do with that leftover 1/3 can of coke? No problem. Just add a couple of ice cubes and a splash of rum and the cooking is much more enjoyable....

Saturday, March 17, 2007

Could it be voodoo?



The story of my ring:

When J and I married I didn't have a wedding ring. He bought a ring for himself, and then found an old dented gold band of his grandmom's to give/loan me. (It didn't matter that it was two sizes too big, and that we didn't even have it resized -- because he knew his grandmom would want it back.) That in itself should have been warning enough to anyone with a gnat's brain to maybe....think twice before proceeding -- wouldn't you think? Well, for several reasons (that I won't belabor here) I took note of what was happening, but went right on ahead.

Let me interrupt these proceedings here to say that J isn't a bad person. He's just incredibly self-centered, spoiled, and selfish (IMHO) -- even more so back in those days. Now, moving right along....

After thinking we could marry in Georgia easier than in Alabama (??!!), and after driving to GA (where we found out how stupid we were we were mistaken, we ended up being married in good ol' AL. So it was that we started married life living in his grandparents house. (This was after we lived separately for a few weeks before deciding to tell our parents we were married.) It doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that we were two kids nowhere near ready for marriage, does it?

So it was that I spent the first year of married life with a ring that kept falling off my finger. I still remember how it felt to realize I'd lost his grandmom's ring again. I'd usually find it in a basket of clothes waiting to be folded or in the bottom of a drawer when putting clothes away. Finally, I just gave the frickin' ring back to J's grandmom.

While pregnant with our first child, we decided I should probably have a ring. So we picked out a wide gold band that I wore for the next many, many years. I wore it until a few years ago when, for some reason, my fingers started swelling and my ring would feel uncomfortably tight at times. When that happened I would panic --thinking I would never be able to get the ring off. (Ummmmmmmm I hadn't realized the possible symbolism here.) Anywho....I finally stopped wearing my ring because I was afraid I was going to pull my finger off in my panic to get the damn ring off!

Again, I found mysef not wearing a wedding ring. By this time, it didn't bother me one bit, but....it bothered J. Go figure. So, Christmas 2005 he gave me a diamond -that he bought at Walmart (because, he said, he didn't want to buy anything so expensive that I'd feel bad if I lost it). Okay. Whatever. I don't care where he bought it. It's pretty and I get compliments on it. It's just that he keeps saying how he probably should have bought something bigger and better, but....yada yada yada.

Now, I'm pretty laid back about most things, and if he'd just given me the ring and shut up, there wouldn't have been a problem. It just aggravates me when he says he should have/could have done better. I mean, if he thinks he should have/could have done something differently, why the hell didn't he?! What I hear when he says this is that he thought about spending more but decided I wasn't worth it.

I know him, and I feel fairly certain that he didn't spend more because he's stingy and tight with his money. He'll admit it. No problem. That's who he is. I just wish he'd shut the hell up about it.

Okay. Breathe. Oooooooooommmmmmmmmmm....

Back on point (for anyone staying with this long-winded post). So, now, once again I'm wearing a wedding ring. But....there's a problem. In the darkest night hours, when I'm moving around while in deep sleep, my ring tries to harm me. It started with scratchs that I'd find on my arm in the mornings. Then the scratches became strong enough to wake me up. Last night the ring drew blood.

It has me wondering. Is this ring trying to tell me something about my marriage? And if I don't listen, what will it do next (it's a small diamond -- what the hell could it do)?

Maybe it's nothing more than a loose prong that's scratching me as I toss and turn in my sleep? I dunno....

It's at times like this that you wish Chicken Man was still around to help you out.

here Chicken Man

When Irish Eyes are Smiling



HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY to one and all!


Paddy was driving down the street in a sweat because he had an important
meeting and couldn't find a parking place. Looking up to heaven he said,
"Lord take pity on me. If you find me a parking place I will go to Mass
every Sunday for the rest of me life and give up me Irish Whiskey!"

Miraculously, a parking place appeared.

Paddy looked up again and said, "Never mind, I found one."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Father Murphy walks into a pub in Donegal, and says to the first man he
meets, "Do you want to go to heaven?"

The man said, "I do, Father."

The priest said, "Then stand over there against the wall."

Then the priest asked the second man, "Do you want to go to heaven?"

"Certainly, Father," was the man's reply.

"Then stand over there against the wall," said the priest.

Then Father Murphy walked up to O'Toole and said, "Do you want to go to
heaven?"

O'Toole said, "No, I don't Father."

The priest said, "I don't believe this. You mean to tell me that when you
die you don't want to go to heaven?"

O'Toole said, "Oh, when I die, yes. I thought you were getting a group
together to go right now."


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paddy was in New York .

He was patiently waiting and watching the traffic cop on a busy street
crossing. The cop stopped the flow of traffic and shouted, "Okay,
pedestrians." Then he'd allow the traffic to pass.

He'd done this several times, and Paddy still stood on the sidewalk.

After the cop had shouted, "Pedestrians!" for the tenth time, Paddy went
over to him and said, "Is it not about time ye let the Catholics across?"


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gallagher opened the morning newspaper and was dumbfounded to read in the
obituary column that he had died. He quickly phoned his best friend, Finney.


"Did you see the paper?" asked Gallagher. "They say I died!!"

"Yes, I saw it!" replied Finney. "Where are ye callin' from?"



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An Irish priest is driving down to New York and gets stopped for speeding in
Connecticut. The state trooper smells alcohol on the priest's breath and
then sees an empty wine bottle on the floor of the car.

He says, "Sir, have you been drinking?"

"Just water," says the priest.

The trooper says, "Then why do I smell wine?"

The priest looks at the bottle and says, "Good Lord! He's done it again!"


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Flynn staggered home very late after another evening with his drinking
buddy, Paddy. He took off his shoes to avoid waking his wife, Mary.

He tiptoed as quietly as he could toward the stairs leading to their
upstairs bedroom, but misjudged the bottom step. As he caught himself by
grabbing the banister, his body swung around and he landed heavily on his
rump. A whiskey bottle in each back pocket broke and made the landing
especially painful.

Managing not to yell, Flynn sprung up, pulled down his pants, and looked in
the hall mirror to see that his butt cheeks were cut and bleeding. He
managed to quietly find a full box of Band-Aids and began putting a Band-Aid
as best he could on each place he saw blood.

He then hid the now almost empty Band-Aid box and shuffled and stumbled his
way to bed.

In the morning, Flynn woke up with searing pain in both his head and butt
and Mary staring at him from across the room.

She said, "You were drunk again last night weren't you?"

Flynn said, "Why you say such a mean thing?"

"Well," Mary said, "it could be the open front door, it could be the broken
glass at the bottom of the stairs, it could be the drops of blood trailing
through the house, it could be your bloodshot eyes, but mostly.....it's all
those Band-Aids stuck on the hall mirror.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Oh, I forgot to mention......



Last month during Mardi Gras, one of A.'s friends broke her ankle while in New Orleans. While drunk as a skunk.... She stepped off a curb wrong and broke her ankle really badly. She ended up in the hospital (I think it was Touro Infirmary) where she underwent surgery and had a steel rod and pins put in her ankle. OUCH!

She's recovering well. The only reason I mention it is to let everyone know that she received competent care while in NOLA. She complained about the wait, but SHEESH! It was New Orleans -- during Mardi Gras. Not to mention her blood alcohol level....

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Is it "grey" or "gray"



....and does it realy matter in a world where commas seem to be unpopular and prepositions rest easily at the end of sentences?

Wouldn't you think the relaxing of grammar rules would make life easier?

Why, then, has it only complicated things for me?

Friday, March 09, 2007

Lost in a sea of paper work......



I don't know what happened, but all I seem to be doing lately is handling correspondence. Everyone needs answers pronto! Where did all these people come from?

I did manage to view "Borat." All I can say is.....JEEEEZ! I thought it was going to be an anthropological type thing. NOT!

Sunday, March 04, 2007

An email I received......



Subject: Purchasing Property


"This is an actual case that recently happened in New Orleans. If you read
the entire thing, you'll see how this is so funny I couldn't help but pass
it along.

Enjoy!

A GREAT LAWYER
Only in Louisiana - you have to love this lawyer!

Everyone who has ever bought a house will enjoy this. A New Orleans lawyer
sought an FHA loan for a client who lost his house in hurricane Katrina and
wanted to rebuild. He was told the loan would be granted if he could prove
satisfactory title to the parcel of property being offered as collateral.
The title to the property dated back to 1803, which took the lawyer three
months to track down. After sending the information to the FHA, he received the
following reply:

(Actual letter):

"Upon review of your letter adjoining your client's loan application, we note that the request is supported by an Abstract of Title. While we compliment the able manner in which you have prepared and presented the application, we must point out that you have only cleared title to the proposed collateral property back to 1803. Before final approval can be accorded, it will be necessary to clear the title back to its origin."

Annoyed, the lawyer responded as follows:

(Actual Letter):

"Your letter regarding title in Case No. 189156 has been received. I note
that you wish to have title extended further than the 194 years
covered by the present application. I was unaware that any educated
person in this country, particularly those working in the property area,
would not know that Louisiana was purchased, by the U.S., from France in 1803, the year of origin identified in our application.

For the edification of uninformed FHA bureaucrats, the title to the land prior to U.S. ownership was obtained from France, which had acquired it by Right of Conquest from Spain. The land came into the possession of Spain by Right of Discovery made in the year 1492 by a sea captain named Christopher Columbus, who had been granted the Privilege of seeking a new route to India by the Spanish monarch, Isabella.

The good queen, Isabella, being a pious woman and almost as careful about titles as the FHA, took the precaution of securing the blessing of the Pope before she sold her jewels to finance Columbus' expedition. Now the Pope, as I am sure you may know, is the emissary of Jesus Christ, the Son of God, and God, it is commonly accepted, created this world. Therefore, I believe it is safe to presume that God also made that part of the world called Louisiana.

God, therefore, would be the owner of origin and His origins date back to before the beginning of time, the world as we know it AND the FHA.I hope you find God's original claim to be satisfactory. Now, may we have our d___ loan?"

He got the loan. "

Saturday, March 03, 2007

Why can't they ask simple questions?



The kids called from North Carolina today. Their house in MS has sold -- HALLELUJAH! -- so they were driving around checking out houses on the list their real estate agent had given them. And....they called to ask me if I would buy a house next to a cemetery. !!

You see, naturally, they found a great house (super layout, super price, creek in the back, yada, yada....). The only small problem is the cemetery that the bedroom windows overlook. !!

I told them that they'd caught me off guard. I've never been faced with such a decision. I did mention that they would probably be limiting possible buyers when they went to resale....

But....as they continued talking about how great the house was (and how small the cemetery is)I found myself caught up in the excitement. Before I knew it, I was reminding them of "Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil" and how the crazies locals enjoyed sunsets sipping martinis on benches in their local cemetery.

As J. said, I hope my children have more sense than I do.