I was just sure that I was going to be a famous blogger.  You know, because of my clever wit.  But this aspiration, along with many others, just didn’t pan out in the ole 2015.  But I want to give it another  try, and I can’t think of a better time to start than now–New Years Eve.   Why am I not out at some New Year’s party, you ask?  Well, I’ll have you know that we were invited to TWO whole parties this year, thank you very much.  But the cold hard truth is, we are 46 year old parents to an energetic nine year old, and will consider ourselves to be in hard-core party mode if we make it until 10:00.  And I don’t know why, but something about staying up until midnight to see the New Year in sort of makes me sad.  It just seems so final to officially say goodbye to a year that we will never see again…we will never have identical experiences again that we had in this past year.  The year is just gone.  I find it more “happy” to just go to bed as usual, like I would on any other Thursday night, and just wake up the next morning hoping I remember to write the correct date on the first check I write.  Which, coincidentally, will be tomorrow, seeing as how tomorrow is the first and we have bills to pay.   I don’t write many checks, with all the online stuff and debit cards now.  But, I do make a point to always write something interesting on the memo line at the bottom.  If I’m not mistaken, the last check I wrote was at the local Publix, and in the memo I wrote “don’t squat with your spurs on.”  I’m sure no one ever sees it.  It makes me happy.

It’s 9:52 and I feel certain I can make it until at least 10:30 on this New Years Eve.  Look at me!  And, as many people are making ridiculous New Years resolutions at this time, I shall do something a bit different.  I find resolutions to be silly.  Why do people want to make unrealistic goals for themselves just because it’s time to once again start writing a different date on those checks?  Rather than creating resolutions, I shall ponder for a bit on a few happenings from the past year.  Whether personal happenings or world events, these are just a few things that will mark 2015 as a memorable year for me.  Keep in mind that the word “memorable” doesn’t necessarily indicate a good thing.  Some of this stuff is just downright stupid.  But some are near and dear to my heart.  Hopefully, you’ll know the difference.

1.  The damn dress.  Was it white and gold?  Or blue?  How much time did otherwise intellectual human beings spend debating this on social media?
2. Katy Perry’s dancing sharks– Super Bowl half time show.  It’s been almost a year, yet it’s still fresh on my brain.
3. Letterman.  I miss you.
4. Adele.  She came back!
5. “What are thooooose?” …still the most commonly used phrase in my home.
6. Inside Out.  Yes.
7. Shelton and Stefani?  No.
8. Donald Trump.  You decide.
9. Steve Harvey.  We’re all human, dude.
10. Cats.  Not the musical, just….cats.  It’s a personal thing.
11. The Force Awakens.  We’ve aged together, Leia.
12. Paris, Charleston, Refugee Crisis, mass shootings, war…..we can’t stop praying.

Little things happened in 2015.  Things that touched my heart forever.  But in 10 years, I won’t be able to tell you the exact year it happened, just that it happened.

A day in July–I remember it like yesterday–while floating in the lake, my daughter told me she didn’t really care for One Direction.  (Win!)  We recorded the Dolly Parton movie and she has watched it five times since it originally aired.  She has decided that boys are cute and don’t smell as funny as she used to think.  She has developed a sense of humor that makes me laugh to my core every day.  I won’t remember the year it happened….just that it happened, and it’s shaped my happiness into what it is today.

So, Happy New Year, or just Happy Tomorrow.  Life’s just gonna keep right on going…. Just don’t forget to change that date on those checks.

I highly recommend this link: http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2015/12/27/sunday-review/2015-year-in-pictures.html  ….the NY times Year in Pictures.  A huge percentage of them made me cry….for various reasons.  The exact moment of these photos will never happen again, which is a blessing for many, sad for others.  Some are puzzling, horrible, beautiful, and unbelievable.  Just like the real life moments they are attached to.

Year’s end is neither an end nor a beginning, but a going on…..  ~Hal Borland

Onward and Upward, my friends!

To my great following…all of my eleven readers, please understand that I have put a great deal of thought into this, and therefore have decided that today’s blog will be a complete session of bitching and moaning.  If you are feeling all giddy and happy and in one of those “on top of the world” moods, you may want to skip this for now….come back and read it on a bad day, like when you run over your own toe with a grocery cart or realize you’ve had toilet paper stuck to your foot for six hours.  You might appreciate it more then.

We’ve all heard the old proverb, “when it rains, it pours”….meaning that misfortunes or difficult situations tend to follow each other in rapid succession.  These can be horribly serious events, or simply stupid, ridiculous events.  Either way, they no doubt pile up like a mountain of smelly gym shoes.

I feel like one of the hardest part about these moments in our lives is not being about to just shout out to the world, “I’m having a really bad week!  I just want everyone to know!”  We fear this because we know that so many others are having a much worse day…we would feel guilty if we complained about our own difficulties….but yet, making a huge announcement would no doubt help.  I personally think we should all have a “bad day shirt”–and when we wear that shirt, people who see us should be obligated to say encouraging things to us…like “you can do it!” or “sorry your day is bad…do you need a hug?”  Or perhaps their obligation should be a compliment.  “Your hair is amazing today” or “you know, I swear, I’ve never seen you look so refreshed.”  Or, in my current situation, perhaps a nice sentiment like “you are really rocking that poison ivy on your forehead.  It makes you look 10 years younger!” would be befitting.

There are those times, however, when we don’t want a single word spoken to us.  I suppose in these situations we could add a bad day hat.   The shirt and hat combo indicates that people should not only leave us alone, but that they should try at all costs to stay a good 25 feet away from us at all times.  If you see someone in Kroger with their bad day shirt AND hat on, you don’t even go down the same aisle as them.  You skip that aisle.  You can go back and get your cereal after the person has moved on.  Give them their space.

Now I know that some people just complain about everything, always thinking every day is a bad day, and they would need like six shirts….to cut down on having to do laundry every night.  Those people don’t count.  As a matter of fact, there should probably be a rule about how often we can whip out our shirts and hats.  It would keep those people from taking advantage.

I chose this blog topic at approximately 3:27 am, when I woke up itching so bad I was convinced that someone had broken in to our home and placed a large amount of fire ants into our bed.  After going into the light of the bathroom, I saw that I had a horrible, bubbly looking rash on both arms, several fingers, my neck and forehead.  And as I’ve been writing this blog, I do believe it’s spread to my chest and upper thigh.   After waking my husband, convincing him that my death was approaching soon, he observes my hideous skin, and I SWEAR I saw him grin a little as he opened his drawer and pulled out a bar of funky smelling soap.  Burt’s Bees Poison Ivy soap.  “Do you not KNOW your own wife, man?  I don’t get poison ivy!  I have NEVER had poison ivy!  I can roll in it naked (which is an entirely different blog in itself) and it doesn’t affect me at all!”  He crassly (how DARE he) informs me, “well, you have it now.  Your streak is over.”

I can’t help but wonder if he is somehow secretly enjoying my suffering.  He’s been allergic all his life….I’ve witnessed him breaking out within hours of just being near poison ivy…maybe I bragged a little too much about how I’ve never, ever had it?  Karma?  Well, I don’t know but this is AWFUL.  My sympathies to all of you people who get it.  I’m sorry I bragged.  I’m sorry I didn’t feel bad for you.  And to my husband, I’m sorry I always told you that you smelled like burnt bread when you washed in your special soap.  I’m rockin’ that burnt bread this morning, dude.  Rockin’ it.

Earlier this week, I took my daughter shopping.  I refuse to call it “back to school” shopping, because I’m still in denial….even though I will actually be back to school in less than 48 hours.  We were cruising through a parking lot when an 80 year old man hit the gas and backed out of his parking space right into the passenger side of my car.  I got out of my car, walked around to survey the horrific damage to both doors, and was greeted by a grouchy man who should have probably been wearing his bad day shirt.  Oxygen tank in tow, he walked over to me  and informed me that “there ain’t no way I can look back and see if anybody is a comin’…..I just back out when I’m ready.  You shoulda seen me backin’ outta my spot.”   If Old Navy sold “bad day shirts” I would have walked in there right then and bought me a new one.  I would have bought one for him too.  Bless his heart.

I am very thankful for the ability to laugh at a huge amount of my bad day moments.  No, I’m not laughing one bit at this poison ivy, for the record, but there are so many times in life when laughing seems like the only option.  Recently, I accompanied my Mom to take two of her dogs to get their nails trimmed.  Nothing scary, no shots…just a simple nail trim.  However, simple as it was, one of her doggies apparently found the whole event to be tragic enough to cause a horrific bowel movement.  This bowel movement must have started during the nail trim, and continued on until the vet tech brought him back out to us in the waiting area.  We noticed right away that she had a distressed look on her face.  It was like she smelled something really bad but wasn’t sure where it was coming from.  “OK, here’s Dusty. He’s a….well, a sweet little thing” she commented as she handed me the leash still looking puzzled.  As we waited for Mom’s second dog to return, I noticed the smell.  My Mommy instincts kicked in.  All you Mommies know that moment you think your child has a bad diaper…and you instinctively reach down there to feel of it…to see if it feels full.  You know what I’m talking about.  Well, I don’t know why, but without even thinking, I reached back and touched Dusty’s  rear end.  The amount of dog poop that smeared on my hand was absolutely unbelievable.  How a 18 pound dog could do something like that–so immense, while sitting on a bench in the vet’s office, is beyond me.  And it was all over my hand.  I grabbed Dusty and ran to the bathroom where we spent the next 20 minutes trying to get us both cleaned up.  People were rattling the door knob, wondering why someone was in there for so long.  At one point, someone asked “is everything okay in there?”

We excited the bathroom to find my mother laughing so hard that her face was covered in tears and no less red than a ripe tomato.  She was gasping for air with one hand on her chest.  Knowing her heart problems, I was truly concerned.  I heard someone whisper to her “I am so sorry”–as they apparently thought that she was crying in distress.  We excited the building huddled up together laughing so hard that we both had terrible headaches….. Dusty, completely soaking wet from the waist down.

Unfortunately, true distress has hit my family in the gut this summer, as another of my mom’s dogs crossed the rainbow bridge into heaven (not Dusty…he’s still leaving a trail), and my beloved cat has, as of today, been missing for two weeks.  Lots of tears have been shed over our short eight week summer vacation….but I’m thankful for the laughs.

I’m sure as the school year begins, there will be many days that I want to wear my bad day shirt.  Maybe even the shirt and hat combo.  But we continue to live on, one day at a time, one step at a time.

It’s time for itching cream…for now I must go. Onward and upward, my friends.

“At midnight, even the bad day must come to an end.”  ~Ms. Moem

Wow, it’s been two months since I’ve blogged.  I truly apologize to the 11 people who read my ramblings.  You must have been shaking and twitching with excitement and concern….wondering what had happened to me.

This morning, at 6:00 am on a Monday morning during the summer, I was awaken by a barking dog.  As I walked through to the kitchen, a small brown bird flew into my head.  After screaming loud enough to alert the neighbors, and possibly peeing my pants, I thought that–once I have enough caffeine to help me shake off this utmost rude awakening–I might use this opportunity to blog a bit.  Let me just go put a dab of Neosporin on my temple, where a tiny bird beak punctured it, and see if my husband needs any help catching the wild bird that has now flown into our bedroom, and I’ll get to it…..

Much has happened, actually, but one thing in particular has taken over a large portion of my time, money, and whichever side of my brain that controls pure obsession.  And that would be….CATS.

I have prided myself, all my life, with the fact that I am a dog person.  100% dog.  One of my many tattoos (sorry Mom) is a dog paw on my left wrist.  Not only do I love dogs more than I love most people, but my love for dogs actually highlighted my dislike for cats.  I care for all animals, don’t get me wrong….but I’ve had a few run-ins with cats in the past that left me literally scarred.  Scarred and scared.  Once, a cat jumped out of a pitch dark room and landed on my head.  It’s claws were literally sinking into my skull and I screamed what I was sure was my last breath.  I may or may not have peed my pants.  Once I rubbed a cat the wrong way, from the tail up towards his head, because in my opinion, if I were a cat, I think that would just feel really nice.  The cat didn’t agree.  He latched on to my arm with both claws and left such deep gashes, it took six months for them to disappear.  Again, may or may not have peed my pants.  I prayed every night that I wouldn’t get cat scratch fever, which is a real thing, apparently.

Well, the major turnaround in my life started almost a year ago….the end of last summer. My daughter and I were hanging out at the dock down at the lake when I heard a little sound that was by no means a “meow”–more like a little troll trying to sing in an unheard of high key.  A matted wad of white fur appeared…no bigger than a hot dog bun.  His eyes looked awful, infected, and he was so skinny that I had to hold back tears.  I spurted the words that every southern woman says when they see something this sad….”well, bless his heart,” and tried to distract my child with the fun of the sunny summer day.  Let’s just make the rest of this part of my story short.  In a nutshell, within an hour, that sweet boy was wrapped in a beach towel, in my daughters lap, on his way to his new home…our home.  I had crossed over into the land of cat people.  A nice, nice vet bill later, eye and ear medicine, a nice warm bath in Dawn dish soap to kill all the fleas, and we had us a kitten.  “Pete the Cat”–named after my favorite series of children’s books.  I grew to love Pete the Cat very quickly….I had quietly become a cat person.  One cat.  One nice little cat to add to our family of dogs.  It felt good.

Those of you who live here in the south know what a rough winter we had…and we were one of the hundreds of families that went days with no power.  After a couple of nights, I thought it would be “fun” to pile all four dogs, plus Pete the Cat into the car and head to my Moms.  She had power, a warm shower, and she happened to be making some homemade soup.  I thought it sounded cozy.  I was wrong.  Her three dogs plus our four, plus a cat….it was a mad scene.  Years ago, I talked Mom into taking our bird–a little finch that loves to sing–and that night I apparently lost my mind completely when I said, “I’ll just put Pete the Cat in this room while we all settle down.”  Right as I closed the door I met my Mom in the hallway…and right as she was about to say “where is that cat?”–I realized what I had done.  I put that cat in the same room as the birdcage.  I ran back in to find Pete the Cat sitting on top of the birdcage, which hangs from the ceiling, swinging it as fast as a kid on the playground swing.  Bird seed and water were flying all over Mom’s neatly kept room, Pete the Cat was having the time of his life, and that poor bird couldn’t have been more terrified.  Poor bird looked like he had been put through the spin cycle of the washing machine.

Later that night, exhausted from cleaning up all the birdseed and feathers, we finally sat down to have some soup.  Looking out Mom’s big dining room window, I thought I had finally gone off the deep end when I saw, on her deck, two cats….all snuggled up in a flower pot.  I knew good and well that my Mom would never have a cat…and sure enough, she assured me, they are just strays….who are probably just looking for somewhere warm to stay.  Being the non-cat person that Mom was, she planned to just let them sleep out there under the eave of the house, then go out the next morning and say what all non-cat people say when they see a cat:  “Scat!”

We all finally got a little (not much) sleep…..all seven dogs, one cat, and one very angry bird.  A few days later, thankfully our power was back one, I got a call from Mom.  She had been doing a little cat watching….observing these felines that had apparently shown back up at her house.  One appeared to be pregnant.  The other one had a horribly mangled leg…broken, or crippled from birth, apparently.   She was just sick with heartache, seeing it.  I knew from that moment, that she was no longer anti-cat.  She had crossed over to my side.  To the cat side.

But these cats were wild.  Feral.  Scared to death.  But you see, when my Mamma and I set our minds to do something, it gets done.  It might take months, which it DID, but we were going to get these cats to trust us.  We were going to get close enough to them to get them the medical help they needed.

As school ended, and my teacher friends were off to Disney, the beach, and other relaxing spots, I had cleared my schedule to do nothing but one thing.  Catch those cats. And let me add that I’m no longer talking about two cats.  By this time, Mamma cat’s kittens had arrived.  Four.  One didn’t make it, but three did, and boy were they active.   Several items were involved in this cat-catching adventure, including my determined Mom, a large storage crate (with adequate air holes, of course), and lots of peroxide and Neosporin to tend to the scratches that we accumulated every day for a week.  Days on end, we would get so close….sometimes even having one of the cats in our arms, but losing grip on it before we could get it in the box.  We’d go in the house feeling defeated, cleaning our wounds with the peroxide and Neosporin, laughing at which one of us was bleeding the most.

Mom had worked so hard gaining the trust of these wild cats, putting out food and water every day, getting them to come to her for a little scratch behind the ear….we had not only crossed over to the cat side of the world, but we had started out own little mission.  Mary and Mom: Cat Rescuers.

Here’s the end of this story:

Mamma Cat was named Jimmie, by my daughter.  Jimmie with an I-E, you know, to make it feminine.  She has been spayed, is adjusting to domestic life, and now lives with us.  She gets along quite well with Pete the Cat….who, looking back on the timeline of all this, may very well be her brother.  Her three babies also live with us.  Yep.  Ralphie, Cosmo and Kramer.   And let me just say, watching kittens play is good for your soul.  It just is.

Johnny B was named after my Grandfather, who would have gotten a big kick out of seeing us try to catch these cats.  The doctors looked at his pitiful leg, that had literally caused us to cry over the past months, and decided that it had to be completely amputated.  My Mamma now has a beautiful, sweet, three-legged cat living with her, along with her dogs and the bird, who has now fully recuperated from his traumatic winter night.

This morning’s bird episode was actually not the first, but the second time one of our feline friends has brought in a friend.  I suppose they can tell what animal lovers we are, and just want to add to our family.  If I could only get them to understand that we’re good….but thanks anyway.

I’ve learned a lot from this adventure.  First of all, NEVER say never.

To name a few others….

~Dogs and Cats can actually get along better than most humans I know

~All creatures just need to be given a chance

~If people learned to do things as fast as cats learn to use a litter box, our world would be a million times more brilliant.

“I have studied many philosophers and many cats. The wisdom of cats is infinitely superior.” – Hippolyte Taine

When I started this blog, I told myself I wouldn’t ever write about parenting.  It’s too risky…with so many different styles and opinions of parenting, what is okay and what is unacceptable….I just didn’t want to go there.  But Lord have mercy, if I didn’t almost say something to a woman in Kroger tonight, who was completely ignoring her son as he threw two bags of Cheetos on the floor and screamed as he stomped on one of them, I decided then that I would have to open up the laptop and vent a little bit.

First of all, WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE??   I enjoy a bit of psychology now and then….studying the right brain vs. left brain, personality traits and such.  I also think a great deal of it is hogwash.  As adoptive parents, we had to jump several unbelievably absurd hoops….including a Rorschach test.  Have you done this?  Looking at a blob of ink that basically looks like a poor bat got ran over by a mail truck, and you want to tell the test administrator that it looks like a poor bat got ran over by a mail truck, but you feel a huge obligation to come up with something more creative and intelligent.  So you lie and say it looks like a lonely princess walking her horse in a vast meadow of aromatic wildflowers.  But anyhoo, I digress.  As I was saying, I enjoy learning about the brain….but I certainly don’t know that much about it.  I am convinced, whether proven or not, that there is a section of the human brain that holds the capacity of knowing how to make common sense parenting decisions.  When your child starts throwing bags of Cheetos and screaming while he stomps one of the bags into fine Cheeto dust, you do NOT just stand there continuing to read the back of a bag of tortilla chips.  You just DON’T.  Unless that special parenting part of your brain is missing, or injured.  You just don’t.

I was in the AT&T store on the Friday before Spring Break, due to the fact that I had dropped my phone in the school parking lot (while skipping and whistling, as most teachers do as they leave for Spring Break) and busted my screen into approximately 227 tiny cracks.  While in the store, listening to my short list of options, two boys (accompanied by their Mother) literally got into a brawl.  The older one, probably 15 or so kicked the younger one–around 11 or 12– in the shin so hard that he dropped to the floor and watched as a knot formed.  He laid there crying and moaning while the older boy just laughed.  The Mother never even looked at them.  At first I thought maybe she was deaf, and just couldn’t hear the ruckus.  I almost tapped her on the shoulder to show off a little of the small amount of sign language I know–to let her know that one of her children needed medical attention.  But she seemed to hear the AT&T guy just fine.  Let me add that the AT&T guy was equally horrified by this event, as he later told me how close he came to saying something to her, and went on to tell me how his Momma would have “ripped a knot” in him if he had ever acted even half that bad in public.

I immediately came home to my daughter and husband, and gave my daughter a big wet kiss on the forehead.  I was so proud of her at that moment, because I knew she would never act like that in public, at home, or anywhere for that matter.  After explaining what brought about my thankfulness and the big wet kiss, you know what my child said to me??  She said, “Mommy, you and Daddy are really good parents.”  The wisdom of my eight year old child brought tears to my eyes, and made me so thankful that the special part of my brain was in fact, there.

I’m not labeling my husband and I as good parents, as I don’t think that’s my job to do. But I guess I’m a hypocrite….. because  I try real hard to not judge others, but I do–because I’m human and I fail and I do things that I shouldn’t–like look down on people who ignore their children and their children’s behavior.  I guess that’s what bothers me the most.  If they ignore their children when they are throwing tantrums, throwing food in the grocery store and kicking the snot out of each other, don’t they also ignore them when they are needing help with homework, hungry, or simply in need of a hug?

We don’t spank.  But we have had very little reason to need to.  Our daughter is a blessing straight from heaven in so many ways, that would be an entirely different blog altogether.  My Momma didn’t spank me, but she had a “hickory.”  A thin little branch off of a tree that I’m certain would have stung like the dickens had she ever used it.  I had friends who got spanked with hands, wooden spoons and even fly swatters, and I was scared to death of every bit of it.  Momma’s hickory laid on a small shelf in the laundry room.  It hung there, right above the mop and the broom.  I can still see it in my mind.  But I must proudly say that, it had dust on it.  She hardly ever had to touch it.  It was the threat of that hickory that kept my little southern butt in line.

If I did something that my Momma didn’t like, she would bring out this “tone” in her voice.  It was calm, slow, even a bit loving.  In her sweet drawl, she would say something like, “Oh, I see.  You want to behave like THAT?  I see.  Well, let me go get my hickory and I’ll be right back.”

By the time she got back (I think she walked real slow on purpose), I was gone.  No where to be found.  And you better believe that the next time I emerged, I was behaving so well that Mom couldn’t help but grin, and thank God, that hickory was back on the shelf.   And whatever I was doing to get the threat of the hickory, I never did it again.

I’m an old child, and yes–I was spoiled rotten.  But I knew how to behave.  I knew if I ran wild through the Big Star grocery, or acted like a monkey in the Revco, my Momma would be sure to throw in a smooth comment as we loaded our items into the Chevrolet.   “Mary Jane, when we get home, I need you to put these paper towels in the laundry room.  You know, where I keep my hickory.”  So I knew my limits and expectations.  Even though my Momma was Wonder Woman and I believe that most of us can only dream to be the woman she is, I still believe that no matter WHAT the circumstance, people should be able to find a way to make our society a place where no one should be uncomfortable around someone else’s child due to their unacceptable behavior.

Of course now that I’ve shared these thoughts publicly, my child will probably ram a shopping cart into a parked car while cursing.  But (knock on wood)…so far, so good.  I’m proud of her.  I’m proud of us, and I’m proud of our parents and their parents.  It’s passed down from generation to generation.  And yeah, that’s another thing that scares me.  The Cheeto throwing screamers will be the grown-ups when I’m an old woman.  Sigh.  But my kid will also be one of those grown-ups.  I’m sure your children will be super contributions as well.  So, my friends, there is still hope.

God bless our future, y’all.

   

I’m a huge fan of the show Impractical Jokers.   I have a strong desire to be more like these people….even though they are mostly good at what they do because they are being filmed for their television show….I still feel like I could be “one of them” in real life.  IF I only had the nerve.  There are other versions of this particular type of insanity…such as Amy Rhodes, one of the writers of the Ellen show….who Ellen sends out to public places, where she communicates to people by only speaking song lyrics.  My favorite is when she approaches a woman in a Forever 21 store, and starts quoting “Crazy” by Gnarls Barkley.  She starts to follow a woman, saying “Come on now, who do you-who do you-who do you think you are??  Ha Ha Ha…Bless your soul.  You really think you’re in control?”   You know that woman–who Amy Rhodes was talking to–HAD to be scared.  I love it.  I just love it.

And how ’bout Jack Vale??  Known for his “pooter”–which I actually don’t think is nearly as funny as his other pranks….he has become an internet sensation by completely freaking people out while his wife videos him.  If I only had the nerve to walk up to a stranger in the Home Depot parking lot and start talking to them as though we were old friends….telling them how much I enjoyed their karaoke performance last weekend….going on and on about how bad I wish I could sing Randy Travis songs as well as they did.  The look of horror in their eyes, as they don’t know what the heck to think…..Ahhh, if I only had the nerve.

One of the saddest things about being a prankster who loves to totally confuse and bewilder people is the invention of caller ID.  I can still remember the day when I realized that prank phone calls were no longer an option.  I used to absolutely love calling unsuspecting victims with random foolishness. I took great pride in my uniqueness.  I worked hard on my repertoire.  I would wait for the victim to answer, then I’d say “I know about the butter beans, and you should be ashamed of yourself.”  It made no sense, and that’s what made it funny.  Another favorite was to call someone, then say “Thank you for calling our movie hotline.  Blade Runner is showing at 12:45 and 2:15.  Back To The Future is showing at 3:35, 5:45 and 7:30.”  I would go on and on, and it was absolutely amazing how long people would stay on the line.

Some might wonder if my Mom was aware of my pranks….which were especially strange since I was actually a very shy youngster.  But those who know Mom well won’t be surprised at all to hear that she is the one who taught me–in a round about way–to have a little fun on the phone.

You see, growing up, our phone number was only one number different from the local Revco.  Not long after the Revco opened, we started getting phone calls…wrong numbers.  It didn’t take Mom long at all to decide that this phone number issue was an opportunity for some fun.  Throughout the day, she would often answer the phone by saying “Revco” rather than Hello.  I could hear her from the next room saying things like “yes sir–we have your prescription ready!” or “Yes!  We do sell fish tank bulbs!  And don’t forget, we are having a great sale on batteries this week!”  Those moments just reinforced what I already knew.  My Mom was the Bomb Diggity of all Moms.

So, being the shy youngster I was, I found true happiness in being a complete idiot in secret.  I’ll never forget the time my friend Jill’s boyfriend broke up with her…and we decided that the absolute best thing that we could do–to make her feel better and REALLY tell him off–would be to find his car (in the midst of the Friday night “cruising crowd” –near the mall, of course), and smear a huge amount of Cheez Whiz under his door handles.  We were so pleased with ourselves.  True satisfaction.  We go him TOLD.

Now I must state that I do NOT approve of pranks that are mean.  And no–the Cheez Whiz wasn’t mean….that guy had it coming to him.  I’m talking about those that really trick people in a bad way.   I got all torn up not long ago over a poor unsuspecting man I saw on TV.  My daughter was watching an old rerun of “America’s Funniest Home Videos”….and these people tricked their friend into thinking he has won $10,000 from a lottery ticket.  He was so excited….jumping up and down and doing little dances.  Then he found out it was a joke.  Now, that’s just mean.  Downright mean.

Since I can’t be a famous idiot–like the Impractical Jokers and the other before mentioned geniuses, I just live in a world where I do my own small acts of idiocy.   And without the good old prank calls and Friday night cruising with a handy can of Cheez Whiz, I’ve settled into a nice, nice routine of simple tasks that make me smile….though I know that very few others would chuckle at all.  What used to be “pranks” have now (in my old age) phased into silly attempts to make people smile……

I enjoy writing randomly odd things on my grocery list and leaving it stuck inside a People magazine for a future purchaser to find.  Just today, underneath my “real” list of milk, yogurt, and lemons, I added “pig meat-4 pack, Chinese soda-pop, super-size laxatives  and wet cat.” Thanks to the woman in front of me who took 10 minutes to write a check, I also had time to draw a little chicken at the bottom of the paper.  I left it underneath a pack of Trident Gum in the checkout line.  I hope someone found it.  I also keep little notes of wisdom in my wallet, and often scatter them around in the store. My most recent was “Knowledge is knowing that a tomato is a fruit.  Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.”  I left it stuck between two tomatoes at Kroger.  Again, I hope someone found it.

I often find pickles on sale at Publix–buy one get one free.  I like to leave a jar on the hood of someone’s car in the parking lot with a little note that says “Pickles for the People.  You’ve Been Chosen.”

Though I may have exposed myself to anyone who has found a jar of pickles on their car hood, or a grocery list stuck in the People magazine, right in front of the article on Kayne West, I just felt the need to say that–it feels good to attempt to make others laugh, or at least shake their head and say, “Wow….what a weirdo.”  I may not make a big mark on this world….but I can leave a few notes and pickles along the way.  Hey, that’s something.

It’s been over two weeks since I’ve blogged….honestly because I had a bit of bloggers block.  But as soon as I heard the major announcement tonight that has made so many people jump for joy, including myself–I just knew I had to write about it.  This statement is one that causes great elation down here in the south….one that makes kids and adults alike giggle with excitement…..a statement that gives us hope, rejuvenation, and a sense of true happiness.  The highly anticipated statement I speak of is….“Due to impending inclement weather, schools are closed tomorrow.”

For my friends who don’t live in Georgia….you just don’t know how giddy we are to hear this announcement….even though we KNOW that others around us are just making fun.  It’s like when you’re a really bad dancer–and you know others are laughing at you, but you just don’t care…because you love to dance.   But y’all, it MIGHT snow.  That’s all that matters. There’s this stillness in the air….a stillness that brings hope that we just might see a snowflake.  And for all teachers and students, that is just GREAT.  By early morning, there will all kinds of statuses on Facebook, some of us claiming to have seen snow, others still looking for it.  It’s kind of like sightings of Bigfoot.  Some just swear they’ve seem him….others are doubtful.  But the point is, we have the day off!!!  Because there is a chance…just a chance of something falling from the sky, and it’s cold, and we have HOPE, people!  HOPE.  That not-knowing is the funny part–you know, the part that causes us to get made fun of here in the south.  It might not snow one single flake…but hey–it’s been decided.  And all my teacher friends are partying like it’s 1999.

I’m proud to say that, before the big announcement was made, I had ALREADY purchased my milk and bread.  Not because I’m one of those people who freak out over running out of milk and bread….but just because it was on my list.  WHY milk and bread??  Do people really go through so much milk and bread on a daily basis that they truly feel panic when the word snow is mentioned?  What about the stuff to go ON the bread?  You never hear anyone saying “I’ve gotta get some ham!  It might snow and I ain’t got no ham!”

Now, don’t get me wrong….we HAVE had lots of snow here in the south…especially over the past few years.  We had so much snow and cold weather a few years ago, we had to make up the missed time at school by extending our school day for 12 straight days.  I’m pretty sure our local Kroger had increased sales of wine during those days….and I bet if you asked any pharmacist, they’d tell you that Zoloft prescriptions went up at least 15%.  But we just don’t care….we don’t care how we might have to make up the missed time, if we get a snow day–it’s like winning the lottery.  Who cares if I have to go a day longer in May….I get to sleep as long as I want tomorrow!

The thought of snow always brings up warm memories…for me, anyway.  Back in my teen years, we always got a good “enough to make a snowman” snow every winter.  It was just me and my Mom, and we would always have a snowman building contest….and I elected myself to be the judge.  Somehow, I won the contest every year.  I remember one of my favorites…..when I fashioned a bikini for my snowman, using leaves off the magnolia tree.  I was so pleased with myself….certain I would win.  And I did.

I especially loved those years when our nice, nice snow was conveniently covered with a sheet of ice.  It’s like Mother Nature wanted to be extra certain that we had the best possible snow day ever.  And I lived every kids dream as far as snow days went–I lived on a big hill.  Mom and I would find anything and everything to sled on.  We never had an actual sled, but we had better.  We had greased up trash can lids, baking pans and Coca-Cola signs.  We would sled until we were literally numb….unable to feel our bottoms from all the contact with the ice.

Our neighbors down the hill were a bit on the snooty side.  They were very different people than us….having a maid come to their house once a week, never waving Hello…and I thought they were strange because I never saw a pet at their house.  I also noticed that I never saw them outside, and I never heard them laughing.  It was a scenario that brings to mind one of my favorite movie lines, from Because of Winn Dixie, when Opal says, “That’s just sad…sad like not having a dog.”

One particular snowy day, with that nice, nice coat of ice on top of the snow, Mom and I had sled for hours.  We had laughed until we cried, and it was so cold that our tears would freeze on our face.   Mom had just mentioned how her bottom and legs were numb, and we should probably go inside for a break.  But being the convincing child that I was, I talked her in to one more trip down the big hill.  I also saw that the neighbor lady was watching us out her window, and I just knew that she was jealous of all our fun.  They hadn’t even been outside….not a footprint anywhere in their white, snowy yard.

So, after Mom agreed to one more trip down the big hill, I told her to go first, then I’d follow.  She arranged herself on her make-shirt apparatus, and took off….laughing and squealing all the way down.  She hit the leveled off area right at the driveway of the snooty neighbors–where the snooty woman still stood watching out her window–after rolling around and laughing a bit more, Mom stood up.  Her pants were down around her ankles, and her underwear was hanging about six inches below her bottom.

I stood there speechless for a few seconds, as Mom looked up at me giving me a thumbs up, declaring what a good run she’d just had.  I can still see the grin on her face as she started walking back up the hill.  She had no clue.  I burst into laughter so hard that my lungs were burning…a laugh that took my breath away….and to this day, I have never forgotten the look on our neighbors face as she stared at my Mom out her window.  And I guarantee, if she’s still around today, that she’s never forgotten what she saw that day either.

So, whether we get enough snow tomorrow for me to declare a snowman building contest….or whether we don’t get a single flake–once again giving the rest of the country reason to make fun of the fact the we closed down, who cares!  We got the day off.  It’s almost 10 o’clock pm and I’m still up! We’ll have fun no matter what.

Snow Day:  A day when God says, “Teachers, I still love you.”

“A snow day literally and figuratively falls from the sky, unbidden, and seems like a thing of wonder.”  ~Susan Orlean 

My husband recently had a letter to the editor published in our local newspaper.  He shared his views and utter disgust for littering. It was an exciting little happening for us.  I agree with him, and I swear since he wrote the letter, the problem has just gotten worse.  Or, maybe we are just noticing it more.  Neither of us can fathom how someone can just be driving down the road, and decide to throw their McDonalds bag out of their car.  I saw an empty egg carton on the median today, laying beside what appeared to be a dirty diaper.  WHAT is wrong with people?   You know what I really want to do?  I want to make a citizens arrest–just like Gomer Pyle.   I think those of us who truly desire our community to be clean and litter free should be allowed to have one of those groovy emergency lights in our car…you know, the ones you hold out the window, them slap on the roof of your car….just like Charlie’s Angels, man.  We could take an oath, swearing that we won’t abuse our privilege of having our cool light….then anytime we see someone flick a cigarette out their window, we could slap that sucker on top of car and pull the culprit over, proclaiming “Citizen’s Arrest!”

I guess the whole idea is risky.  The culprits could be armed, drugged, or just plain mean.  It could get dangerous.  Therefore, those of us armed with a special light would also need a stun gun.  Yes, a stun gun.   Punishments could range from community service hours–cleaning up litter, of course, to being forced to stand in front of Kroger with a sign saying “I am a filthy litter bug. Boo and hiss as you pass by.”

There is, of course, a true and serious problem with the general stupidity of mankind…things that happen every day that are either unbelievably still not against the law, or are simply not treated as punishable crimes as they should be.  Examples that pop into my mind are smoking around children, chaining/tethering or any other mistreatment of animals, leaving children in the car, neglect, and….I’m already realizing that all every offense I can think of is either against a child or an animal.  That’s where my heart is.

But back to the dream of the true Citizen’s Arrest….To make this pretend (unfortunately) situation even more satisfying, let’s just add a few other community violations that could be considered basis for a Citizen’s Arrest:

*Wearing a cell phone on your belt

*Wearing leggings as pants

*Making obnoxious popping sounds with your chewing gum

*Saying “Get ‘er done”

*Leaving your Christmas lights up past January 3

*Continuously posting photos of your dinner on Facebook

*Standing closer than three feet away from the person in front of you in line at the grocery store

*Sitting at the fast food drive through window more than five seconds after receiving your food  (Do you really need to put your straw in your Coke BEFORE you drive off from the window???)

*Nose picking

*Butt-crack exposure

*Tearing pages out of the magazines in the doctor’s office

As I write, I am compelled to visit dumblaws.com, to leave you with a few head-shaking facts.  The people that made up these laws obviously had too much time on their hands and a sense of humor.  We’ve all heard the one that states that it’s against the law to eat fried chicken with a fork in the state of Georgia….but some of these I’m definitely reading for the first time.   I just wish they would add a few of my ideas to the list.  Nonetheless, I shall share…..

In she state of Georgia, it is against the law to:

*Tease an idiot (I’m guilty)

*Use a blowgun within city limits (stink bombs are also illegal within city limits)

*Have a picnic in a graveyard (I’ve seen people doing this)

*Using profanity in front of a dead body

*Carrying an ice cream cone in your back pocket on a Sunday (apparently acceptable on other days)

….and the one that just blows my mind–

*Keeping a donkey in your bathtub.

To conclude with focus on my initial point….Don’t litter, y’all.  No one wants to see your trash.  Put it where it belongs.  Give a damn about your surroundings….take PRIDE in the beauty of where we live.  Don’t trash it.  Don’t be an idiot.  And for the rest of us….next time you see those idiots throwing their trash out their car window, just whip out your best Gomer Pyle, and yell out a “Citizen’s Arrest!”  (but don’t tease these idiots….because THAT is actually against the law).

Insomnia. Despicable Insomnia.  You know it’s not true, but your brain convinces you that you are the only one in your part of the world who is not sleeping.  Everyone else is having nice, nice dreams about wonderfully pleasant things, and you are standing in the middle of the living room floor at 3:00 am, pondering on whether or not you should rearrange the furniture.

That is actually what I have done on many occasions.  It’s amazing how quiet I can be while moving a couch.  I enjoy the look on my husbands face when he stumbles through (after his nice, nice night of peaceful sleep), gets his coffee then heads towards his favorite leather chair…which is now replaced by a nice plant.

I don’t have this curse of insomnia often, due to my bottle of pleasant little pills called Ambien.  I am convinced, however, that an up-to-no-good person employed at my local pharmacy slips a placebo or two into each of my bottles.  Why they would be so cruel to me, I do no know.  But I’m certain of it.  When I go in the pharmacy, I give them all the crook eye, and sometimes mumble “I’m watching you” as they pour the little pills into the bottle.  When they turn to look at me, I look away and pretend to be thumbing through the People magazine by the register.  I will find the culprit.  I will find them.

When I can’t sleep, it’s like a little movie is playing in my head.  A movie titled “Odd and Extremely Random Pieces of Mary’s Life.”  I will lay there trying so hard to feel the tiniest bit of sleep enter my body, and suddenly I’m remembering the time I was in Sears with my Mom.  I was about nine and I was trying to learn how to blow a really big bubble with my two huge pieces of grape Hubba Bubba.    As we stood at the counter in the catalog order department, I blew a little too hard and my grape bubble gum flew out of my mouth, covered in spit, and landed on the rather snooty woman’s hand.  I flip the pillow to the cool side and roll over, wondering why in the world I suddenly remembered that particular embarrassing event, then I start experiencing this insane mixture of memories, one after the other, running through my head.  I lay there thinking of my childhood friend who was always orange because her Mother put Mercurochrome on everything.  I think of the time I lost my balance and dumped an entire pineapple upside down cake into the bottom of my Mother’s freshly cleaned oven.  I then recall the group of boys that dressed up like The Village People and lip-synced “YMCA” at the school talent show.  I wonder what ever happened to them….I think about how I’m friends with only one of  them on Facebook.

Yes, Facebook.  That’s what I’ll do.  I log on and start to read various statuses, some of them made an hour ago, 30 minutes ago, telling me that I’m not the only one awake.  This makes me feel better, so I decide to try again.  I head down the hallway to our bedroom and crawl back in.

The snoring emerging from my husband is so much louder now.  Jessie, our largest dog, is also in the room….and every now and then they snore at the same time…staying in sync for a few snores.  The fact that I am entertained by this is not a good sign.   I could wake him, but I decide to go empty the dishwasher instead.  While in the kitchen I realize I’m hungry.  I stand there trying to decide if I can open a box of Triscuits silently.  I feel confident that I can do it.  I stare at the box, and decide that if I move very slowly, no one will hear me. I go for it.  I open the outer box with no problems….sliding my finger under the cardboard flap.  It was the damn plastic-like bag on the inside of the box that got me.  I touched that bag with one finger and within 2 seconds I had four dogs and a cat standing at my feet.  Our smallest dog, the one who freakishly barks when she anticipates a bite of food, started up.  Her high-pitched bark rang through the house like a siren.  I had been caught.  I grabbed a handful, shared with the herd of animals, and jammed the box back in the cabinet.

I decide I will now attempt sleep on the couch (which is now on the wall where the desk used to be).  I conclude that the best thing to do is to go through the alphabet, and think of things I am thankful for, beginning with each letter.  A-Animals.  B-Broccoli.  C-Children.  D-Dogs (yes, redundant to Animals, but it’s 4:37 am)…..I get about halfway through and I start to feel it….sleep.  I get excited…it’s coming.  I’m going to be asleep by 4:45.  I snuggle up with my couch pillows, then I feel another impending urge.  I have to pee.  SON OF A *******!!!!!!

While in the bathroom, I somehow think of the song “Paradise” by Coldplay.  I think of how it sounds like Chris Martin is saying “Pair-of,  Pair-of, Pair-of-Dice”….which make me think of dice, which make me think of Monopoly (we had just played it with our daughter), and the Monopoly made me think of money, which made me remember that I had a couple of bills to pay.  I get back online, pay the water bill and the gas bill.  I get a little distracted and read an article about the benefits of apple cider vinegar.  By now it’s after 5:00.  On a Sunday morning.

A definite nap is in my future….and I must make sure to enjoy some quality family time, church, and make it day that can be labeled “well spent.”  For, as Leonardo Da Vinci said, “A well spent day brings happy sleep.”

We shall see…..   🙂

I decided to do some cleaning today…which apparently shocked my child.  As I swept up enough dog hair to weave at least two sweaters, she entered the room and said, “are we having company?”  I’ll have her know I just swept a couple of days ago….perhaps she just missed it.  I’m actually a bit of a clean freak by nature….but living with a man, an eight year old, four dogs and a cat can make a natural clean freak throw up her hands and surrender.  And by “surrender” I mean pour a glass of wine, find the cleanest room in the house, and just hide for a while. If the cleanest room in the house happens to be the bathroom, so be it.  It’s like that silly quote I recently saw…”Cleaning your house with children (and a man) is like brushing your teeth while eating oreos.”

I recently ran across a Wiki-How article titled How To Clean Your House.  Who the heck writes these things?  The most amazing part is that it had been viewed over 640,000 times.  My child might get excited with the hopes of company when I sweep, but damn….if this article has truly been viewed that many times….and even a tiny percentage of those viewers were truly seeking advice on how to clean their house….well, that just blows my mind.  I will admit that I did read the article, for the sole purpose of making fun of it.  Maybe that’s what everyone else was doing too.  I will say, as I was perusing this piece of mind-blowing internet material…I had a good time combining the author’s expert advice with the reality of how things really work out for most of us working Moms.

Let me just share a couple of the key points of this riveting article with you all….and let’s just add a dash of reality, shall we?

1.  Decide how clean you want your house to be and how much time you have.  OK, well….I want my house to be spotless and I have about four minutes a day to devote to this dream.  Moms, you know what I mean.  The dream of NOT finding a blob of Play-Doh in the dryer with your favorite sweater.  The dream of NOT stepping on a Lego with bare feet in the middle of your bedroom.  The dream of NOT slipping on a pile of dog barf, falling all the way to the floor, then finding a half-eaten bowl of grits under the sofa while you are laying there.

2. Always have a cleaning checklist and a plan of attack.  They go on to suggest that you choose what rooms you plan to start and finish your cleaning in.  They chose the bathroom as their room of focus.  I especially like the part of the article on cleaning the bathroom mirrors.  Did you know that, as an alternate to spraying the glass cleaner directly onto the mirror, you can spray the cleaner on a paper towel first, then clean the mirror with that paper towel?  Freaking mind boggling.  I guess I’m not one to judge, though…considering that I recently had to use a paint scrape to get an unidentified object off the bathroom mirror.  I found the cleaning “checklist” to be a little funny.  What if I really wrote everything down that I needed to do?  The list would be longer than the receipt I get when I go to CVS.

The article goes on to share some super cool suggestions….such as: Do the laundry with a washing machine or by hand. They also suggest that you dry your laundry after washing it.  (whaaaat???)  The words “elbow grease”  and “pleasing air fresheners” are peppered throughout the article….which ended in a statement that suggested that, after your housework is done, you “spray a nice room scent, sit back and admire your work.”

So, after making fun of this article, I decided I would clean.  As I write this, my house looks pretty good….and yes, I DID sit back and admire my work. I even lit a nice, nice candle for a special touch. Incidentally, the cat’s whiskers are now singed off the left side of his face. I do believe a lesson was learned by both of us…as the candle is now in a higher location….but, I digress.  My floors are clean, clutter is organized, dishes are done….I even bathed one of the dogs, which may have eliminated that unidentified odor that had us puzzled all week.

I will sign off with a few other Wiki-How titles that I have found (real stuff, y’all)….as I state the obvious–some people have WAY too much time on their hands, and they think the rest of us are complete idiots.

*How To Attract People to Buy Your Bird

*How To Be Like A Fox

*How To Become Friends With A Squirrel

*How To Make Your Ears Grow Bigger

*How To Be A Hot Latina

*How to Have A Naked Day At Home

*How To Be Inspired By Clouds

and lastly….

*How To Find A Crop Dusting School

Don’t be discouraged, y’all.  Whatever you need to learn, Wiki-How has it taken care of.  Goodnight, and Happy New Year.