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...

Saturday, November 1, 2014

Things of the Past - Part I (and Color Coding)

It just dawned on me today.  It's no longer necessary to remind people to remember to spring forward or fall back.  In order to break the habit, I'm going to substitue the following:  "Enjoy that extra hour of sleep!"  I guess in the spring, it'll be something else.  Hmmm.  Not sure how to put a positive spin on that.  I have some time to think about it, though.  An extra hour, tonight.

One other thing.  I recently realized that it's no longer necessary to say, when describing a person from the south Asian country of India, that they're "Indian, from India."  Best I can figure, there are two reasons for this.  First, it seems that around here, there are more Indians from India than those who are of the "indigenous peoples of the Americas."  Which it turns out, are no longer called "native Americans."  Maybe the word "native" is offensive?  Not sure, but interestingly enough, my cursory googling turned up quite a few answers indicating that the proper terminology is "Red Indians" for those from around here, and "East Indians" for those from South Asia.  So confusing.

I won't even get started on the whole "African American" thang.  Or "Gay/Lesbian/Bisexual/Transgender."  Or, while we're at it, whatever it is we used to call retarded people.

Except, I will start on it.  I'll just throw out an idea.  What if, for simplicity's sake, we assigned color names to groups of people.  Hell, the disease people have gone nuts with it.  By the end of October (thank god it's over), aren't we all sick of pink.  Even the fucking newspaper showed up printed on pink paper.  How many products are slathered in pink and hawked in the name of breast cancer research?  I swear, everywhere I turn, something reminds me of this dread disease.  Yogurt.  Lipstick.  T-shirts. Dura-Flame logs.  Go figure.  Except, don't go figure.  The insidious answer is that it's a marketing ploy.  Since ploy implies deceit, let me explain.  When a company uses the word "proceeds," (as in "a portion of all proceeds goes to support breast cancer research,) this means nothing.  Proceeds is not a real term in the financial world.  I won't bore you with the details, except to give you an extreme example.  I could sell $2 billion in pink maxi-pads, and give one penny to any cancer charity, and I'd be perfectly justified in boldly proclaiming the fact that I'd give a portion of all proceeds to charity.

Let's be clear.  There are some good guys out there.  The ones who say, "10% of sales support the Susan G. Koman Foundation," for example.  So be alert.  Think.  Or better yet, ignore the hype and the pinkness, and send a little check directly to a legitimate organization.  I think you'll make a bigger difference that way.

Back to my color coding idea.  Maybe that song had it right.  Red and yellow, black and white...  We could add some other things.  Think pink for breast cancer survivors (FYI - "remission" is out "cancer-free" is in.) Rainbow for our GLBT friends.  The possibilities are endless.  For the record, though, I call aqua for my thing. 

Wednesday, October 22, 2014


All of a sudden, I can understand Jihad.  And I have Comcast to thank for that.  They are evil incarnate.  Worse than the following:

  • Charles Manson
  • Ted Bundy
  • Vlad the Impaler
  • Jack the Ripper
  • Nero
  • Stalin
  • Bin Ladin
  • Hitler
  • Mengele
  • Chris Brown

I could list more, but these are my top ten...not counting Comcast.  Hmmm, who could they replace?  Nero, I guess. Just because he's been dead the longest.  No other reason.  Which is not to say that Chris would be the last one I'd delete.

Gotta go.  I'm waiting for a call from The Evil One.

Sunday, September 7, 2014

My Personal Ten Plagues

It's been so long since I last blogged.  So much has happened.  That damn day job is eating into my computer time.  That, and the raging mildew colony that's invaded my home office.  Which I just realized, yesterday, is NOT my fault.  It all started when I got a brand spankin' new (very expensive) HVAC system.  Three years ago.  When I first reported the problem to the vendor, I was told that I was blocking the vents (thanks to former housekeeper who shoved shit in corners in an effort to assuage my hoarding tendencies.)  I could write pages and pages about this subject, but I won't.  Not now, at least.  Bottom line is that I think Dude oversold me on the HVAC system.  I just learned that if the unit's too big for the area being cooled, this kinda shit happens.  Got some Googling to do, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I've been had.  Which makes sense of the fact that I've called those guys out not once, but twice, to my rental property to repair the HVAC, and never received a bill.  Even though I've asked for it more than once.  And left messages for Dude to call me.  Hmmm...

Well, I've bleached the hell out of one mildew-ridden vent and the surrounding wall, carpet, baseboard, etc.  Got a fan blowing fumes out the window, so as not to asphyxiate The Daddler (my office is adjacent to his bedroom.)

More on that later.  But to keep your breath bated, I'll tell you that including the toxic fungi, I've been dealing with my own little version of the ten plagues of Egypt.  My version includes infestations of rats, squirrels, cicadas, spiders, flies (I don't know why,) snakes and roaches.  Truth be told, I've only seen one snake, so I won't declare that a plague yet.  Same with roaches - killed one the other night, but haven't seen one since.  Really, the rat thing was the worst, and I thought I had it conquered, but I've been seeing suspicious-looking, small, black, turd-shaped objects around the house again.  It makes me itch just thinking about it.  Which reminds me of the fact that I was convinced I had pubic lice, because my lady parts continued to itch even after I'd taken the prescription yeast infection pill I received from the ER doc when I got my thumb nearly bitten off by a neighbor's cur.  (He prescribed some big-gun antibiotic, and I had the presence of mind to ask for a Diflucan script, which I got refilled when the second round of itching started.)  Again, more about that later.  Including an embarrassing episode at Costco when a fellow shopper interrupted my vigorous labia-scratching to ask if I knew where the peanut butter was.  I cringe when I think about it.  Thank god for my face-blindness.

Oh, and just to be clear, you CAN catch pubic lice from public toilets. 

Ok, better run.  I need to go set some traps and put out some poison.  Load The Daddler's service revolver (forgot to mention the lawn-mower theft in my list of plagues.)  And teach my new dogs some old tricks.  Love those girls.  Gotta put some flea and tick stuff on them.  Because if we got infested with those, that would make TEN.  And we all know what happened to the Egyptians after that...

Sunday, March 2, 2014


I can't believe I haven't posted since October.  I've been kinda busy.

Made it through the holidays (although I still have a couple boxes of ornaments I need to take to the attic,) and hopefully, the worst of the long dark winter.

I started a new job a month ago, and the jury is out, but I think it'll be a good thing.  I'm working about 20 hours/week, the hours are flexible, and the money is decent.  They gave me what I asked for, which means I could've gotten more, but fortunately, it's not my bread and butter.  It IS nice to have the extra moolah coming in, but more than that, getting out of the house and feeling like a professional again.  The social aspect of working is good, but unfortunately, there've already been a few, ummm, difficulties.  As unpleasant as it was, I suppose it was good to get it out of the way.  After a week or so of walking on eggshells around a somewhat territorial, bossy, snappish, passive-aggressive co-worker, I finally stood up to her and explained that I knew what I was doing even if I didn't do it exactly the same way she thought I should.  I also told our boss about it and said that if she wanted to look for someone who would mesh better with said co-worker, I would completely understand.  I didn't intend this to be an ultimatum, but it probably served that purpose.  But it was also the truth, and after spending way too much time stressing out over it, I figured it would be better to cut my losses.

Sooo, I guess they want me to stay, because it's been peachy keen ever since.  A little saccharine, even.  There's still the passive-aggressive shit just under the surface, but I'm being careful and I think she knows not to push me too far.  I hate that this kind of stuff inevitably happens, because I really don't have a hidden agenda and I'm not trying to prove anything, so I don't know why these bookkeeper types feel so threatened by me.  It's not the first time this has happened.  I wonder if I'm just too nice, and therefore, they think they can bully me.  After 20 years of therapy, I think I'm finally learning to set boundaries, but it's still incredibly anxiety-provoking for me.  Maybe the worst is over and I'll settle in, do good work, and be happy there.

At times like this, I always remember the immortal words of Rodney King:  Can we all get along?

Take 17 seconds and watch this - It always brings me to tears...

Rodney King