Welcome to my world!

My life's been crazy since my Daddy moved in with me immediately after my mother's death in October 2010. My one and only kiddo headed to college at Carolina at the end of August. So...I lived on my own, for the first time in my life, for a total of a blissful six weeks. Then, I started the parenting gig with my dad. He's a combination of a grouchy old man, a surly teenager and a temperamental toddler. Needless to say, I get very close to the brink of insanity sometimes. I get through life by finding the humor in difficult circumstances. And for some reason, I wind up in the weirdest situations. I couldn't make this stuff up. So I wind up having lots and lots crazy adventures which make great stories to share with my friends. Writing about my life is so therapeutic. My ramblings range from funny to sad to angry (full of cuss words) to sweet. While my focus is dealing with the trials and tribulations of being a parent to my Daddy, I have lots of random, totally unrelated posts. Whatever's on my mind. I love to make people laugh, and I'm happy to think my readers will get my strange sense of humor. And maybe, people who are in my situation will be encouraged. That's all I can hope for...

Monday, September 10, 2012

Olive Loaf

The Daddler is eating it at this very moment.  I just got back from the grocery store.  He likes variety in his meals (refuses to eat leftovers), so when I spotted the OL, I decided to chance it.  I should've gotten some potted meat and Vienna sausages while I was at it.  This is a reflection of my humble upbringing, but I used to take all of the above in a brown paper sack for my school lunch.  My favorite, though, was tuna salad.  I actually liked it better at locker temperature.  With soggy white bread (whole wheat hadn't been invented back then.)  And Charles Chips, which were delivered weekly in garbage-can sized tins. 

In the good ole days, we hadn't even heard of Salmonella or E Coli.  Our biggest health risks were pinworms and catching our toes (we went barefoot) in the bicycle spokes.  Never mind about bicycle helmets or hand sanitizer or full-contact football in the front yard, sans helmets or pads (I held my own against my beloved brother - I think I might've been a tomboy).  Or seat belts, for that matter.  Our mom's arm shot out quicker than any airbag to keep us from flying through the windshield.  We were on our own in the back seat, though.  I wound up on the floor more than once.  I remember landing on a loaf of bread one time. 

Speaking of sliding off the back seat, that happened to me once in a NYC cab.  The lack of seatbelts in The City in 1990 was reminiscent of the mid-sixties.  So nostalgic.

Those were the days...

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