Breaking News...

She's still not speaking to me, but I just got home from town and found she commented on my Myspace while I was gone...

"I LOVE MY PAGE ...UR THE BEST! AND THE NEW PIC IS DEF ME UR SOOO GOOD!"

Trust me, I'm in trouble.

Family Ties

Well, it was Kate that was shot, and unfortunately it appears as though she is going to pull through.
The up side is that her cousin Olivia has spilled the beans that Kate is really Connie from the block and they share some big secret she's a tranny.

In other news.

My new shoulder doctor squoze me in for an appointment yesterday afternoon.

I really like him.

I think he's about fifteen years old, I doubt he shaves and his mother probably drives him to work, but I really like him.

You should have seen him blush when he saw the tattoo on my right shoulder that says 'Dave's Babe" (third husband).

Obviously his name is Dave and I guess he's never seen his name in lights before.

So my new surgery date is October ninth.

Or maybe it's the tenth...

As Sarah Palin says, "I'll get back to ya on that."

Wendy and I are still not speaking.

I upped the ante last night and applied a rainbow background to her MySpace page with a caption that reads, "Coming Out."

The way I see it, an aggressive maneuver like that will either cure our relationship or kill it.

I for one hope we can heal the pain through laughter.

In Addition to Morning Update

Sonny and kate from general Hospital...

And, here's the picture that is currently adorning Wens MySpace

No News Here...

Hmmmm.... 

What should we talk about today?

Deb is part of a bloggy book club, but it's to early in the season for me to be reading so I don't have a gripping new novel to discuss.

J2B2 and Amelia Bedelia had a surprise sister soiree this weekend, but my sisters we're both home flogged with familial chores, so no story there.

I already told you about my Facebook encounter, I don't need to beat that one to death.

I got new appliances over the weekend!

Well, not exactly new, but new to me.

A shiny white dishwasher and flat top range : )

Super pretty and goes well with my new sink and faucet.

The neighbor (thats how I will refer to Wendy from now on when I'm disgruntled with her) and I are not on speaking terms as of yesterday.

Nothing big, as usual she's dumb and I'm the Mom and I know everything so I win.

Since we're not speaking, all I could do to have the upper hand in our dispute was to go into her MySpace account and change her profile picture to a hand sock puppet holding a dead fish in it's mouth.

It'll be a few day before she figures out what I've done.

It's the little things that bring a Mother joy.

Wyatt has been driving me nuts with his little boy BIG attitude phase.

To think I was naive enough to believe only thirteen year old girls held the license to heavy sigh and roll their eyes.

Thats it I guess

Just a whole lot a nothin.

Tune in tomorrow and we'll talk about who got shot at Kate and Sonny's wedding.

I hope it was Kate, I can't stand Kate, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't her.

Familiar Faces

Can I just say this...

I love the Internet.

I logged on to Facebook this afternoon to see what was new in the world of the hip and in-the-know people.

It's their world, I just visit there sometimes.

At the very bottom of the page it said, find people from "your school-your year."

Ok, I figured, I'll try this.

Oh my GAWD.

There were the faces of people I hadn't seen in years looking right. at. me.

The only thing different is they all looked just a smidge older.

I went to a really small school, I think the graduating class was around thirty people, so there were only five or six listed, but still, there they were!

Within minutes I had requests fired off to friends I hadn't spoke to in years, and it wasn't long before I had replies back from them.

a m a z i n g.

It didn't take long before the phone lines were on fire and I was talking to Shannon in Texas.

It just doesn't seem possible that so much time has passed and that her kids are half grown, or that I have one who claims to be full grown, or that we are even old enough to have kids at all.

Well, I've had Wendy all my life, so that's not quite true, but you get my drift.

What a fun way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

OKOKOK!

Nobody liked the funky brown background so I went with a safe pre-made layout.

I promise to keep my fingers out of the background bucket for awhile.

How do you do I do?

Today, we're talking about love.

Not the love you have for your kids or your Grandmother and not the love you have for srapbooking or sex.

I'm talking about the way you love your Spouse.

I want to know about normal middle aged married people love.

Z's Mom, I want your opinion too, even though you're nuptually challenged. 

It could just be your better off to never have married than to have married to much.

My sisters are both middle aged and married, but they don't count.

The men they're married to aren't really husbands anymore, they're just family and can't be part of my study

I'm worried because I don't have soap opera passion, but I'm relieved that I don't have Lifetime movie stress.

I'm happy spending time together, but just as happy to see him leave for work.

We don't laugh together because he's not funny, so I just laugh at him.

Sometimes I think our marriage is like peanut butter and jelly.

Goes good together but boring.

We hardly ever argue and we have the same goals.

My happiness.

JUST KIDDING.

I want him to be happy most of the time too.

I definitely feel he gives more in our marriage.

Is that ok?

I am not in any way high maintenance or demanding, just weird.

I guess what all this boils down to is I like this Husband and I want to make sure I'm doing things right.

Got any ideas?

Medical Alert

Gizmo did not have a stroke!

He was constipated.

Two suppositories yesterday seemed to do the trick.

Thank you for all your well wishes.

Did you see the picture of Pooter and Pearl?!

They love each other.

Let me tell you something though, it's not easy putting a walkin' harness on a pig.

It was worth it though to see the two of them strolling around the yard together.

I don't know if Pooter loves her for her mind, or because she's made out of bacon.

I thought Wyatt was going to have a meltdown last night.

All last week he was telling me about open house at school.

Everyday I would ask to see the paper with the time and info.

Every time he would say, "Uh, yeah, Mom, I'm a fourth grader now, I know when open house is"

I rolled with it and he was wrong.

Not the part about being a fourth grader, the part about knowing IT ALL.

I had told him if he was wrong his consequence would be that we wouldn't wait around or go back at the right time.

"Whatever Mom, I know when open house is."

Last night was open house.

We got there at 6:00 and it started at 7:00.

Wyatt cried all the way home.

Happy Birthday J2B2!

Thats all I got.

Pooter and Pearl

"Sink" Your Teeth Into This..

Mike and I have been talking about replacing the faucet in the kitchen sink.

It's been there since the house was built and starting to show it's age through spots and leaks.

Mike stopped on his way home yesterday to pick up one up, but came in empty handed.

They wanted close to $100.00 for a cheapo one.

Whatever.

I told him to  sit back and watch me do my magic....

I logged on to Craigslist and within five minutes found a cast iron enamel coated double Kohler sink with an uptown faucet on it!

SCORE!

For seventy dollars (less than the cost of a new faucet) we have a beautiful new sink with a fancy faucet.

Sometimes I amaze even myself.

Gizmo isn't doing so well today.

I think he had a stroke yesterday and has been having a hard time, wandering around bumping in to things and  very lethargic.

I am really worried about him, but I'm not going to take him to the vet.

I have read up on doggy strokes and there isn't anything that can be done for him, so I'll just love him and hold him and maybe teach Bart to be his service dog.

I wonder if that means Gizmo could get into a nice restaurant or acquire a better parking spot at the market..

If he has medical reason and a service dog he should get all the perks that go with it.

Wendy and I made up.

We had a roast for dinner.

GET THIS!

I received a message from my shoulder doctor yesterday saying there has been a "family emergency" and my surgery scheduled for October 6th has been moved to October 26.

This is so wrong in so many ways that I'm not even going to go bother listing the reasons.

I will call this morning and cancel and then get on the stick to find another doctor.

I got a postcard yesterday!

From the Farmers Wife who has been on vacation and sent greetings to all her fans who left their address for said correspondence.

I bet the mail lady thinks I'm cool and have friends who travel to all kinds of exotic places.

Last year I got a post card from my Sister while she was in Italy and now I get one from Arkansas, OH, and Wyatt got a package from Afghanistan where his uncle flys a mail plane.

I roll with some real movers and shakers.

Now, go check this out.. The Cutting Edge of Ordinary

Make sure you have already had breakfast because browsing here awhile will make you oober hungry and if your belly isn't full, you may find yourself licking the screen.

I'm not kidding, go have a Pop-Tart or something.

While your there, grab this and get your name in for a give-away!

Family Management

Wendy and I got in to it last night.
I'm not even going to tell you what is was about because I was right and she was wrong and I already know that.
I know that because I'm the Mom.
I have been the Mom for 24 years and not only I am a Mom, I know other Moms and I watch t.v.
We're an organized group us Mothers, kind of like the biggest Union in the world and when we combine forces with the "Wives" we're even stronger.
It used to be in our contract that in order to be a Mother you also had to be a wife, and then we realized we could have more members and be closer to our goal of world domination if we split.

Anyway, I hate it when she practices being all aldulty with me and tries using logic to prove her misplaced judgment and opinions
Remember, this is Wendy, so I let her roll with it for a minute just for entertainments sake, but in the end, every time I'm right and she thinks I'm dumb.
That lasts about two days and then she settles down and see's whatever it was that caused the dispute for what it really is and gets it..

This should make me happy and I guess after the two day waiting period it does, but in the meantime, it makes me crazy.
What is so freaking hard about bowing down to those with more experience and more brains.
Why can't she just say... "Well Mother, I see your point and as usual you are right, and I, am just a big dumb pain in the ass."

As I sit here writing this I can hear my Mother saying to me, "I told you so" and I know I was no peach to raise, but I didn't stick around and rub salt in the wounds either.

I didn't even wait the required amount of time for a drivers license or high school diploma before I left home.
I knew I knew way more than she ever would and instead of wasting her time and mine, I just set out to make my own way and it's been nothing but sunshine and bubbles ever since.
Ok, thats a lie, but it's my story and I'm trying to make a point


Because I'm the ringleader of this outfit, I can do what I want, and tonight, just to show Wendy who's boss, I'll make meatloaf for dinner.
Meatloaf and peas, and I'll serve her a big plate of it and make her eat at at least half.
It's to bad we all have to suffer, but we're a family, and family's stick together and I'm the Mom, and I can make them all eat meatloaf if I want.

It's in my contract.

I have Come To A Conclusion....

The hair on my legs makes me look tan from a distance.

Surprise!

Well, I'm sure you won't really be surprised, but this is an easier way to break the news to my family. I'm afraid they might think I'm crazy, but they won't give me that "Marilyn have you lost your mind" look in front of all of you.
We went to Safeway last night and got a baby potbellied pig :)
We didn't buy her at Safeway, well sort of, we met the family that we got her from on Craigslist at Safeway.
At night, in a dark parking lot.
Kind of like a Hillbilly drug deal and the drug of choice is livestock.

I can just see my family showing up at my door with a camera crew asking me about my livestock and then inviting me to a "family reunion" at some local hotel to do an intervention.

"Marilyn, we're all here because we love you" as the Kleenex box is passed around the room. "How long have you been addicted to livestock?"
"Well, it all started when I was about ten with just one little dog... from there it went to kittens, rabbits and rodents. Before I knew what was happening, it was birds and more dogs and fish."
Did you feel like you were losing control then Marilyn?"
"No, not until I moved to the Farm. I would start to feel kind of shaky driving by fields of goats, I would break out in a sweat whenever I saw miniature equine. Chick days at the feed store were my undoing, I had no control..."

Now, here I am with a white trash makeshift 2x4 and chicken wire "play-pen" in the garage for Pearl.

She's just a little pig, just one little pig.
And I swear, this is it, no more, I'm done.

Well, at least until spring when we start to see a return on last years poultry investment.
Just think, baby ducks, baby geese, baby turkeys, baby guinea hens, little baby chicks...
I gotta go, I'm starting to feel a little shaky.

Gossip and Lightbulbs

My friend Val started a blog awhile ago and I was SO excited.

We have been friends since the 4th grade, but live pretty far away from each other now and with busy lives and all, sometimes it's just hard to keep up.

So Val starts this blog and then gets a job and like that's more important or something, quits keeping up with her blog.

Whatever.

You can imagine how excited I was last night to see that she has not one, but two great new posts, so I headed right over and to my surprise, it was coverage of her ex-husbands wedding!

This was shaking out to be better than I thought.

Not only did I get to see a picture of her ex, and his new wife, there was more.

As I scrolled down, there was picture of someone else I knew...

It was my third and favorite ex-husband Dave!

All I can say is it's a good friend who sneaks in a casual picture of an ex for a friend.

So anyway, seeing those pictures was actually better than being there because I didn't have to do my hair or shave my legs and still got to see all the good stuff.

Ok, now I want to talk about light bulbs.

My Husband has become the Rain Man of light bulbs.

The Bubba Gump of interior lighting.

It is driving me c r a z y.

I don't know what started this irritating sudden fascination, all I know is I want to punch him in the face every time he refers to the wattage and type of any given fixture.

It goes something like this... H is for him and M is for me

H: Hey, did you notice anything different in the bathroom?

M: No

H: Well, I just installed two new 65 watt daylight bulbs in the fixture over the sink and two more in the ceiling fixture as well.

M: Great, thanks.

This is what I'm thinking. 

If I wanted to take a shower in glaring daylight and see every bit of fatty, cellulose, stretch marked, over extended, unsahved part of me,  I would take my showers at high noon on the deck.

Thank you, but I prefer the soft glow of a 60 watt K-Mart generic four for a dollar bulb.

I wonder if theres a twelve step program for illumination addiction...

This Old House

When I was born in 1968 I was brought home to the little house next door.

My Mother came to stay with my Grammy for some re-coup time while my

Dad was home getting ready with my sisters.

My Grammy and Grampy lived in the little house next door because my Grampy was building the "big house" that we live in now.

He was building it from a barn.

When they bought the property in the late sixty's there were plenty of building sites on the fifty some acres, but my Grampy being "green" before his time, decided to use what was already here.

A turkey barn.

You can well imagine what it must have looked like.

My Grampy told stories over the years about all the ropes that hung from the rafters where the turkeys would hang getting ready to meet their maker.

Not only did the ropes hang, but everything else that went in to making a barn a barn was here to deal with as well.

His friends thought he had lost his mind.

My Grammy may have thought so too.

Grampy worked days as a butcher in town, and every evening on his way home he would search out the backstreets and alleys for building materials

He was very frugal and built the house around what he found.

Lucky for him (and later us) they began tearing down an old hotel across from the market where he worked and every night he would bring home windows, doors, fixtures and whatever else he could get his hands on.

The insulation between the structure of the house and the siding is recycled ham foil from the butcher shop, and the foundation of the house is all rock that he moved himself and mixed with mortar.

Every piece of siding he cut from sheets of wood that he brought home from a tear down somewhere in town.

His friends shook their heads and called him crazy.

None of them really wanted to help a guy that they considered to be in over his head or just plain out of his mind.

So my Grampy did it.

By himself

He would always say it was a good thing they didn't have building inspectors out here back then, because he just did what "made sense." He measured everything and figured it out as he went along.

His favorite saying was, "I may be crazy, but I aint stupid"

What he built was the most beautiful house you have ever laid eyes on.

Out in the middle of what was once nowhere, stood the grandest house you could imagine.

Huge rooms with picture windows, bathrooms with marble counters and a kitchen to die for.

Growing up, I always believed my Grammy and Grampy lived in a palace.

But what it turned into was something not even my Grampy could have planned.

It turned into a house that holds our happiest memories.

It holds the memories of the love they shared with us and the lessons they taught us.

The excitement we had coming here as kids, and the excitement of our own children coming here and being welcomed by the same love and open arms.

The smell of Grammys cooking and Grampys barn clothes in the utility room.

Grammy saying, "My land, look at how much you've grown!" and my Grampy sitting in his favorite chair giving us the boo boo booboo, how do you do!

We moved here two and a half years ago to help the people who gave so much to us.

I feel privileged to have been able to spend two of the hardest years of their life and mine together. 

I remember the days that were so hard I didn't think we would make it even one more day, and maybe, that's how my Grampy felt building this house.

I hope that in the next forty years I will have the chance to share with my family, nieces and nephews and children and grandchildren and husbands and wives the love and the lessons that I learned here.

(This is my oldest sister Kelly thirty eight years ago!)

Peafowl Photos

Ok, we just arrived home from mission peacock pick-up.

It seems like we drove forever and when we came home it was faster to cut across into Washington and drive home on the freeway than it was to track the river back into Portland and then up the highway home.

I don't know if I can do justice to the place we got the peacocks.

Let me just say this.

I don't know what to say.

Honesty, I am thinking and I can't think what to say.

I swear to you there were at least fifty, if not a hundred turkeys of different age and sizes, ducks, chickens, peacocks, ponies, geese, pigs, dogs and donkeys.

Amazing.

And kinda stinky.

I know what your thinking...

Well Mrs Parks... that kind of sounds like your house.

Well, no it isn't like my house.

It would be like my house on crack.

Maybe my house if I was left to live alone with no supervision and could do what I want that would be my house, but as things are , defiantly not like my house.

She only had male pigs, so we didn't get one.

She said herself that they stink and hump alot.

I'll wait till' next spring and get a girl pig who's pretty and doesn't stink or hump.

So, we got the peacocks and hightailed it outa there.

They are to young to sex, so we don't know what we have.

Their box-o-chocolate peacocks, ya just don't know what your gonna get.

We do know their India Blue's, so if their males they will be fabulous and if their females they'll be funky.

That's all the more reason to continue reading the blog.

You won't last to long not knowing if our peacocks are fabulous or funky.

Since I was outside with the camera I took pictures of Nancy and the guineas too.

Here's Nancy


Here's the guineas



And last, but not least...
Either Peter or Pearl, one of our new peacock chicks!

Redheads and Peacocks

Oh Ma Gawd.

I woke up yesterday with a buggered up back.

I have no idea what I did, but it hurt so bad, it's like ... if the house were to have caught on fire, I would have just laid there and let it burn around me.

The first part of the morning I was all but on my hands and kness, but by mid afternoon I'd taken enough medication that I was able to walk, but looked like a crippled old drag queen.

I feel better today, but it makes me so mad that it hurts at all.

It's the end of summer and I have so much I want to get done outside and I don't even have a child around to pester me while I do it, and then I end up with all these aches and pains and bad bones and brains.

Whatever.

Ok, so yesterday while I was lying in my Craftmatic fully adjustable king size bed and flipping through the channels, I ended up on Kathy Griffin some kind of comedy hour.

I have never paid any attention to her  because I always thought she was just a loud mouth.

She is.

But, she is also very funny.

So funny.

She doesn't care who she says what about or how offensive it is, she just says it.

The part I thought was so funny about her though is that she talks about how these "big Named" people talk about her, and she's just fine with it.

When she was talking about Martha Stewart and Barbara Walters and how irritated they were with her, I almost wet my great big bed.

So, Kathy Griffin, my new favorite.

I found baby peacocks on Craigslist last night.

Ten dollars each.

I need to super sweet talk the spouse into getting some before they're gone.

It's not like he would ever tell me no, we just need to skip all the back and forth of letting him think he really has a say in it, and then in the end be a good husband and "give in."

We need to go straight to "if it's my idea, it's a good idea" now get your ass in the truck we're going to get some peacocks and maybe a pig.

Ok, he's awake now, I need to get to work.

Peas Out.

Operation Sleep Over Over

I am blessed to have a son who is shall we say in his own words "eccentric."

He has marched to the beat of his own drum since the day he got here, and I must say, it's a tune we can all dance to.

He was raised by his sister and I, and if you ask anyone who's met us they'll tell you our beat is a little off as well.

Wendy was fifteen almost sixteen when Wy was born and I was soon after single.

My Father had progressed stage cancer and I found myself back to work long days and caring for my dad full time, so a lot of the responsibility of Wyatt in his younger years was laid at Wendy's feet.

Wendy and all her teenage friends.

All girls.

Wyatt was brought up in an all girl world until just a few years ago.

Wyatt loves the ladies.

Wyatt's Dad is Jack.

Jack Ass for short.

We will go in to Jack another time, but a quick run down is this.

He is the biggest drunken illiterate red-neck you'd never want to lay eyes on.

No brains no tolerance.

Together we created Wyatt.

Wyatt is sensitive, creative, artistic, in touch, out of sight and just plain cool.

His Dad does not relate.

You can imagine how it went over when Wyatt at the age of three insisted on having a baby doll.

We took him to Target and not only did he choose his own baby, but he chose a black baby.

Baby NaiNai.

Wyatt loved baby NaiNai.

We loved Baby NaiNai.

His Dad. Not so much.

His dad. Lost his mind.

His Dad. Sent him home.

Would. Not. Let. Him. Stay. The. Night.

Ok, there's some Wy history which leads me to todays story.

Wyatt's best friend in the whole entire wide world is Shannon.

Best friends.

Ever.

They are in the same class, they talk on the phone every day, they are best friends.

Forever.

Wyatt had a sleep over last night and invited Shannon, her older sister who has to go everywhere Shannon goes, and Leighanne.

Shannon's Mom would not let Shannon and her sister stay the night.

They could spend the day, but not the night.

Leighanne could stay, but Shannon and Catherine could not.

The kids had a great time all day swimming, watching movies and playing outside.

We had pizza and popcorn for dinner.

I thought Wyatt and Shannon were going to cry when it was time to take her home.

Then there's this.

Leighanne was adopted by her Grandparents who are of appropriate Grandparent age.

When Leighannes Pappa said to her Memaw, "She's go'in to spend the night with a boy?"

Her Mem said, "Pa, it's 2008!"

Ya, duh.

It's 2008.

Even a Grandma gets it.

What do you think?

Am I weird to think it's ok?

Is Mem wrong to tell Pa it's ok?

Would you let your nine year old have a co-ed supervised sleep over?

Done Done

Ok, first I have a funny story.

Yesterday on our way home from the paint store we wheeled in to Jack-in-the-box for some lunch.

As usual we got home only to discover they had given me the wrong thing.

Now we live to far from town to just run back and make things right, but I always call so that next time I'm sure to be compensated with a freebie.

I kid you not I ate free for almost a month a few years ago.

This is just the kind of drive through misfortune I have.

Back to the story.

I called the kid at JITB and he was SO polite.

He said he would not only replace my order, he would ALSO throw in a treat of my choice.

I remember that Wendy is in town so I call her and tell her the story and ask if she will do the do at the JITB drive through.

No problem.

She's on it like a bonnet.

A N H O U R A N D A H A L F   later Wendy comes home.

She drops a Burger King bag on the counter.

I say, "Wen... where did you go"?

She says yells  " J a c k i n t h e b o x".

Like I'M dumb.

I said , "Wen, you have a BK bag here on the counter...."

She looked at me.

Then I looked at her like SHE was dumb.

She had gone through the BK drive through, told them her mother had been there and was given the wrong thing and so she was supposed to get the right thing and a treat.

They gave her a free bag of food.

Only Wendy.

I'm quite certain they just figured she was crazy and decided to move her on through the line before she had a meltdown.

I asked her if they doubted what she was saying, and she said "yes, but I just kept telling them, MY MOM SAID"

Now really, how can you argue with what a grown womans mother said when said mother isn't even in the car and all you know is there is some insane woman yelling in the speaker for all the restaurant to hear that HERMOMSAID.

Who says theres no such thing as a free lunch.

Ok so, we painted the bedroom yesterday and we are now officially done painting!

So, here's a picture of the kitchen

and the bedroom

Thats all for today.

DONE

Wow!

What a difference a day and a husband make.

I love my utility room again : )

Mike worked really hard on repainting for me yesterday, and I know it was a huge drag, but I will be so happy every time I walk in that room.

Really isn't that what it's all about?

How does the saying go...

If Mamma aint happy, aint nobody happy.

Yeah, that's how it is at our house anyway.

After Mike finished the utility room he started on the kitchen.

Now the kitchen wasn't to bad, I had just painted it a year or so ago, but I loved the color so much we decided to just bring it on out.

I didn't help in the kitchen because it's all stretchy reaching kind of painting and gawd knows I wouldn't want all you nervous nellies on my case for that.

Here's the utility room..

You can't see the washer or dryer, but they're white and look really nice against this color.

I'll post a picture of the kitchen later.

Hold please, I have to go run a turkey out of the garage...

I return defeated.

I can get him out of the garage, but by the time I get back in to hit the switch to put the big door down he's standing right there staring at me.

By the time it was over, Pat the Cat, Tom and two guineas were all in there starring me down.

I think they' may be planning a hostile take over.

HEY!

Mamahut got her alpacas yesterday!

Stop by her place and see if she has any pictures yet.

She has Oregon alpacas so I feel a connection now not only with MH, but her livestock as well.

Since I'm sending you to other blogs, also stop by Scargosun for her pesto recipe.
I swear it looked so good I wanted to smear pasta on the screen of my Mac.

K, now, go to Decisionally Challenged  and sign up for Project Secret Santa.

Believe it or not the season is almost upon us and I for one love a good gift!

Clean It Up

It has been a busy week here on the farm.

With my shoulder surgery I feel like everything that needs to be done is done.

Floors mopped, laundry finished and folded, bathrooms sparkle, paint the utility room and of course the big one... Grampy's room.

I decided anything could happen and I may not make it out of surgery.

I would hate for Mike to have all the relatives over with the floors a mess, the laundry stacked and dingy walls

Grampy's room was the biggest job, and by far the most emotional.

Since he passed in June, I have just closed the door and taken a Scarlett O'Hara attitude towards the whole situation,

It was to big of a job and I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

Well, it's done now.

Forty years of grocery store and pharmacy receipts.

Forty years of bank statements.

Forty years of life in this house.

Forty years of memories.

I was SO overwhelmed.

I didn't know where to start and it felt like I would never finish.

I did finish though, and now the room is clean and organized and set up with the computer a couch and of course a t.v.

The "lounge".

It's not an "office" because I don't do any type of real work in there.

It's not the "computer room" because there is also a couch and t.v and we do more than compute.

So, I decided it's the "lounging" room.

A place to comfortably pass the time.

Now, if you come to my house and slip by calling it the computer room Wyatt will be on you like white on rice and inform you it is the LOUNGE.

It's already happened to me.

Late yesterday afternoon the phone rings.

It is my shoulder doctor.

He has been rereading my MRI and x-ray and has discovered there is more to my shoulder than what he thought.

The actual injury that is causing so much grief is the muscle and tendon that are torn from the capsule.

I think.

Anyway, he wants to do a different procedure than he had originally planned and just happens to be attending some seminar in Arizona this month on said procedure.

My surgery has now been rescheduled until October 6th.

I asked him what I should be doing about the pain and clunking and thumping in my shoulder every time I move it.

He said I was to CONTINUE (haven't been) wearing the sling with as little movement as possible.

Until October.

Whatever.

I told him I had been moving furniture and cleaning carpets.

A sling?

Continued?

Until October?

Whatever.

We painted the utility room last night and I  h a t e  it.

It is the worst no color, cold, generic, blah, lifeless color ever.

Now what?

Mike kept telling me "it will dry the color you want".

Was it magic paint that would somehow dry to my liking?

No.

I still  h a t e  it this morning.

We will spend the day repainting and put a fresh coat on the kitchen as well.

Thats all.

Enjoy the day.

Vegas 2001

I was sitting in the show room of the Flamingo.

On the stage Frank Sinatra was belting out a ballad and it felt as though he was singing just for me.

If theres one thing you need to know about me, it's this.

I love Frank.

I thought ours eyes had met across the crowded room, but when he pointed to me and smiled I couldn't believe it and had to glance around just to be sure.

When our eyes met again, I knew it was me he was looking at and I started to quiver and cry.

During the break, he made his way through the crowded room to where I was sitting next to an old woman on oxygen smoking one Pall Mall after another.

He reached out and took my hand and led me to a stage front table and asked if I would be his guest.

I didn't have to think, all I had to do was breathe, just breathe.

Once I was seated, he asked my name and if I was alone.

It was then that I remembered I had left my friends at the slot machines, but I didn't care, they would find me eventually.

I told him my name was Marilyn and he held my hand and gazed into my eyes until it was time for him to go back on stage.

Sooner or later my friends found me, and couldn't believe it when they realized where I was sitting, or that I was sitting there as Franks guest.

I told them I thought we may be in love.

As the night grew late and soon into morning, my friends needed to get some rest and returned to the hotel.

Frank asked me to join him for cocktails at one of his favorite quiet places.

He said it was to soon for us to say goodbye.

We watched the sun come up over the desert that morning as he sang softly and held my hand while looking so deeply into my eyes that I felt he could see straight into my heart.

Time soon ran out for Frank and I, my flight was to leave at 9:00 that morning.

I think I may have cried as he drove me back to my hotel and said goodbye, all the while promising me that this would not be goodbye for us, it was just the beginning.

We spoke to each other almost every day, he would call me from back stage, serenade me over the phone and send tender emails every chance he had.

I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

It had been months since our chance meeting in the showroom when he called and asked if I had any plans for dinner that night.

TONIGHT! I asked.

He would catch a flight to Seattle that afternoon if I could arrange my schedule to meet him at the airport.

I didn't even have to think about it, I would be there.

We were going to have an entire night together, just the two of us.

I arrived at the airport just in time and my heart raced as I watched for him.

I heard him call my name and chills ran down my spine.

My eyes searched the waiting area, but I couldn't see him anywhere.

I called out for him... there he was.

My handsome Frank.

Was really a short middle aged man with bad hair plugs and lifts in his shoes wearing a blue velour track suit.

Oh. My. Gawd.

For the first time, I realized this wasn't really Frank Sinatra.

He was a Vegas impersonator.

He was just some guy named Gary.

I had just let myself forget that minor detail.

He ran to embrace me as tears ran down my face.

He looked up and into my eyes as he touched my face and reassured me that I didn't need to cry, we were together.

If only he had known, that was the reason I cried.

It turned out to be one of the longest nights of my life.

The moral of this story...

What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Hog in the Bushes

Friday afternoon I drove Wendy to work.

She had to work the night shift and doesn't like to drive home at 3:00 AM, so we drive her in and she calls a cab home.

I had been busy working around the house all day so my wardrobe consisted of my night gown with stretch pants underneath, hair pulled back and secured with a pencil, and of course my yellow rubber barn shoes.
No big, who's gonna see me.

I made it to town without incident, but as I rounded my last corner home I came upon a motorcycle in the ditch, buried in black berries with two leather clad onlookers and a passer by who had apparently stopped to offer assistance.

I could see they were in quite a pickle and since I was almost to my driveway I stopped, rolled down my window and offered to call for help.

I must have tapped their last nerve because they SCREAMED at me that NO they did NOT need any HELP.
W h a t e v e r .
Even the passer by felt bad and gave me the sorry shrug.

This didn't set to well with me, and after some thought I put together the fact that it was a beautiful Friday afternoon, and that maybe, just maybe, alcohol had played a part in their misfortune.

Now, I'm no prude, but when I'm at a fashion low and still stop to offer aide to a stanger, and am treated badly in return, someone is going to pay.

I came in the house and promptly called 911.

I told the pleasant woman who took my call what had happened and that by NO means was I trying to be a Gladys Cravitz, but I was quite certain these people were in need of deputies assistance.
I also may have mentioned that if alcohol had been a factor, how unfortunate it would be for them to continue travel on our family friendly county roads.

She agreed.

I gave her all the information she needed to put in the report, but before I hung up she asked my name and address.

Well, I may be a troublemaker, but I AM NOT stupid.

I told her there was no way I was giving her my name and that the last thing I needed were angry drunken bikers at my door seeking revenge, and could I please remain anonymous...
If not, just list me as Gladys.
Gladys Cravitz.

I wonder how things worked out for them.....

Picture This

Waiting for the bus... Farm style


Home from the first day


Did I hear someone say coffee?


On a clear day you can see forever


Another relaxing morning on the deck

You Can't Not Love This

Marshmallows and Gin

I want you to imagine for a minute some of the things you would want to have with you if you were stranded on a deserted Island all by yourself for a month.

Don't say what you think you should say like your kids or your husband.

This is you on a deserted Island  (with electricity...don't question me) for an entire month.

Here's some of the things I would want.

1. Really super good strong coffee with heavy cream and real sugar.

2. Marshmallows. Not the minis, full size.

3. A brand new straight from the zippered bag 100% cotton down comforter. You never know but the nights might get chilly.

4. All of the books I have been wanting to read. All of them hardback.

5.  Gnocchi Gorgonzola.

6. Gin. I don't usually drink, but if I'm on an Island alone with no responsibility, I'll drink till I'm soaked.

     

I think that's it.

I reserve the right to come and edit this list at any time

You Can Only Wear White Once

After yesterdays post about the goat, my shoulder, Wens break-up and Wy's first day of school, there seemed to be some scuttlebutt about my marital history.

It's true, I have been married a number of times.

Six to be exact.

Here's the run down, or as close as I can recall...

I came into this world known to family and friends Marilyn Marshall.

When I was fifteen I met and married Stephen and a year (almost) later we had Wendy.

I was then Marilyn Marshall Wood.

By the time I was seventeen Steve and I were divorced.

When I was eighteen I met and Married Nick.

I was then Marilyn Marshall Wood Vasquez.

That marriage didn't last very long and was annulled so technically I don't think it counts, but for the sake of counting we'll count it.

When I was twenty five Shelley introduced me to Dave and a few months later we were married.

I was then Marilyn Marshall Wood Vasquez Pollard.

Now is when you need to really pay attention....

Dave and I didn't make it quite three years and during the third year I divorced Dave and Married Jack who I had met prior to the nuptials to Dave.

Ok, so I was twenty eight when I married Jack and within a year or so we had Wyatt.

I was then Marilyn Marshall Wood Vasquez Pollard Swafford

Another three years passed and Jack and I, to the relief of my family and friends divorced.

Within that same year, or maybe it was the next year Jack and I, to the dismay of my family and friends were married a second time.

I was then Marilyn Marshall Wood Vasquez Pollard Swafford Swafford.

Alas, again the marriage did not last and Jack and I parted ways for what my family and friends hope to be the last and final time for all eternity Amen.

When I was thirty five I met Mr Parks.

We dated.

We lived together.

We broke up.

We dated.

We lived together.

We got married.

We have been married three years.

He's my Favorite.

Lucky #6

I am now Marilyn Marshall Wood Vasquez Pollard Swafford Swafford Parks.

You can just call me Mrs Parks for short.

Brush With Fame

Oh my!

Corki the goat is featured on Nannygoatsinpanties today.

He really is a fine goat, but who knew he'd make it so far so fast.

I hope Norm doesn't get wind of this and feel like an amateur.

Maybe lightning will strike twice in the barnyard and he can get his taste of fame too.

Ok, here's the deal.

I got the news yesterday that I need to have surgery on my shoulder.

The full on slice it open pull and tug it tight procedure.

On the 11th of THIS month.

After I say that out loud I kind of get depressed and don't want to do it and just want stay home and eat Mallomars instead.

Whatever.

I'm going.

On the 11th.

Of this month.

I'll have someone feed me Mallomars when I get home.

The doctor says six weeks in a sling that somehow goes around my waist as well as over my shoulder to keep my arm still.

I hope the tie around my waist is elastic, because after six weeks in the chair in the house there will be a lot more to tie around.

Ok, I don't want to talk about this anymore...

~~~~~~~~~~~BREAKING NEWS~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wendy is breaking up with the Plumber tonight.

She says he doesn't make her laugh.

Listen, I have been married six times and the only time I have ever laughed in a relationship is when I am talking about them, not to them.

She's young, I guess she'll learn for herself.

Today is Wyatt's first day of school!

He is in the same class as Shannon (thank the good Lord for that) and they have a new teacher this year whom I believe is young enough to be a child from my own loins.

That's ok I guess, I'll have more pull at conference time by giving her the "look".

Miss Herr: (That's "her" real name) "Well you see Mrs. Parks, Wyatt seems to be having some difficulty with his times tables and I was just thinking....."

Me: "Yes Miss Herr (looking down my nose over my glasses with short tone) you were thinking maybe you need to spend a little more time educating the child instead of diddle-daddling so much"?

Then I could always throw in a "in my day...."

I can't believe I'm even old enough to use the "in my day..."

My Dad used to tell me how in "his day" he had to walk to school, up-hill, both ways, in the snow with a pig on his back.

I don't know what the pig was for, maybe for lunch.

I have to get back to my cleaning now.

Ciao'