FAMILY TIES

Yesterday my niece, Laura arrived from Florida. She wanted to come see Grandpa, who naturally is my Dad. Normally, I guess I'd be telling you about our visit, our time together, even our feelings about Gramps.

Instead, I'm going to tell you about her job. Actually about her two jobs. One is a very interesting enterprise. Laura works for let's say, Tracey. I can't remember her real name. Tracey has this successful company whereby, in a nutshell, she places new opthamologists in existing practices. I think basically, that's what the deal is. You graduate, now you need to work somewhere. Bingo. Laura is kinda the Match.com of eye doctors. And, she really likes her job. It's convenient, it has bonuses, it gives her great hours, etc. etc.

Yet after knowing Laura for all my life, and being way close to her, last night was the first night that I ever learned of her OTHER job. Now THIS is a job I'd love to have. Get this... she gets paid FOR STAYING AWAY. Handsomely, I might add, considering perks like insurance, etc. are thrown in. How did she LAND such a job? Easy. She's the oldest of my late brother's children. The two youngest took over Bob's company after he passed away.

It's a wonderful construction/management company that my brother began many, many years ago. Once he passed away, my nephews stepped right up to the plate and not only took over the company, but probably furthered its success and/or it's worth, too. It was through very tough times and very hard work that the boys brought the business where it is today.

Anyway, as in many family businesses, the children often get some sort of financial benefits... but NO one tops Laura's benefits. Get this... my nephews, actually PAY her to stay out of the office! NO, YOU CAN'T ACTUALLY WORK HERE. IN FACT, WE'RE PAYING YOU TO NOT WORK! STAY AWAY! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO SHOW UP! Can you imAGINE?? Why the hell can't I land a job like this?? This would be SO up my alley!! I'm telling you... Laura definitely has the ultimate job of a lifetime!

Not that she doesn't deserve it, mind you. Laura has a great husband, three children, three step children, 4 house pets, the eye doctor job and, and the responsibilities of running a home. Not to mention, the cooking, the cleaning, the carpooling, etc. So, trust me, she works HARD. But when I was listening to the job description for the construction company, I couldn't HELP but laugh right out loud. With tremendous jealousy, I might add, too. You should have HEARD me as I asked her to run the details by me again. The details got better and better, believe me. Yet, they all boiled down to the same bottom line: WE'LL PAY YOU NOT TO SHOW UP. What an F-ing great deal!

So... I'm now off to search Monster.com. I just PRAY I see such a listing as the job offer and/or position Laura has landed. If so, you can be SURE I'm sending in my resume!! Hell, with positions like this, I'll hold down 5 jobs, happily. WNTD: EDUCATED, EXPERIENCED EMPLOYEE WHO PROMISES TO NEVER SHOW UP. GREAT BENEFITS. Bingo. That's me!!

IS SHE FOR REAL??

What the heck is with these people who think their dogs are on par with human beings? Better yet, what the heck is with those who actually WILL items to their dogs once they pass away?? Is is me, or are these people border line nuts? I mean, come on... give me a break. I'm all for loving one's pet. Okay... cook stove top gourmet meals for your pet, if you must. Even sleep with your pet, all cozied up, upon your pillow if that's what you're into. Better yet, if you simply HAVE to have your Xmas cards showing pictures of you cheek to cheek, practically frenching your animal, then okay, go for it.

BUT, TO LEAVE 12 MILLION DOLLARS TO A DOG?? ARE YOU F-ING KIDDING ME??? What the hell is THAT all about??

Unfortunately, I'll never know, given Leona Helmsley has kicked the bucket. Yet she did just that. The dog gets millions. A couple of grandchildren get nothing. Okay... I'll give her the benefit of the doubt, imagining the kiddies did/did not do something that deserved such a slight. But... TO MAKE SPOT A MILLIONAIRE?? What the hell did Spot do?? Sit?? Stay?? Fetch?? Wow... if that's the case, I should be scoring ZILLIONS given all the things I can do WAY more complex than Spot.

I guess there are those who can actually understand Leona's thinking. I on the other hand, am seriously QUESTIONING her thinking. Especially since I was heavy into the entire Leona and/or Harry bit way back in the 1980's. Actually, I even read her biography, which I'm sort of hesitant to even admit. Regardless... did the attorney not look at Leona AGHAST when she instructed him/her to set up the Doggie Trust?? Isn't he/she OBLIGATED at some point to say... Uh... Lookie here, Mrs. Helmsley. I'm happy to do this, this and this. But THIS?? Hold on a minute here, honey. Geez... it almost sounds like grounds for malpractice if you ask me.

I remember Sunshine, our family dog for many years. He was absolutely the best pet EVER. He was smart, obedient, demonstrative, etc. etc. Definitely a great little four legged companion. In fact my Dad was SO impressed with the life Sunshine led, he actually said he'd LOVE to return to earth one day as our pet. If anyone lived in the lap of luxury, Sunshine did. But NEVER in my Dad's wildest imagination did he or Mom ever think the dog should be included in their WILL. Can you imAGINE my reaction should I have had to ever deal with THAT? Geez... half the people in this world are alREADY mighty jealous of their siblings, etc. Can you imagine having to be jealous of and/or strangle YOUR PET?? EEKS.

All I can say is... you are apparently ONE LUCKY crazy ass canine if you belong to the Queen of Mean. In fact, as I see it, you automatically become the King of Green. Talk about giving a whole new meaning to being a Rich Bitch.

SHE SPEAKS!!

Oh my God... I think I can make this work. What a deal... maybe now I don't have to merely bitch in print. I can do it PERSON, too! Thrilling, huh??

"NO GOOD DEED...

... EVER GOES UNPUNISHED". Such is the ever popular ole proverb, yet it's one which has way more truth than jest in it's wisdom. And as of Saturday, I'm living proof. Last week Pat brought over a blanket stand that she had gotten for a mere $5.00. Apparently she keeps it in her foyer and man oh man, it needed help.

Originally the stand was very bland, made of dark, unfinished wood, thus the epitome of blah. Pat wanted it jazzed up a bit, so she asked if I'd paint and/or embellish it. Apparently she has once or twice noted all the little art/craft/paint projects I've done around my house and I guess she took a liking to a couple of them. Next thing you know, I'm hired. In the meantime, I was happy to do her the favor and was given free reign over what the finished product would look like. In fact, the only request she made was that it be done in a pale lilac. Bingo. I obliged.

Indeed, I did the undercoat in lilac. And then on Saturday, I sat down on my living room couch to begin the designing deal. At first, I wasn't sure just what I should do, but soon enough I made a decision and then gathered up the paint colors I wanted, and whamo... I was well on my way.

Except wait. Just prior to my beginning the embellishment, I had done a load of laundry and when the washing machine was finished, I quickly grabbed all the clothing and loaded it into the dryer. Oh...by the way... I let a lot my clothing remain in the dryer for about 10 minutes, max; thereafter I remove significant pieces so they can finish via air drying, hanging perfectly on my favorite hangers. No problem. Off I went, to begin working on the blanket stand, knowing I'd be back in 10 minutes, to gather whatever clothing that needed to be air dried, and then yippee, yippee... I'll be killing two birds with one stone.

Oh, I killed it, alright. Killed it to such an extent, that before I knew it, I got completely lost in my little arts and crafts project, and about an hour later, when I FINALLY remembered, I went back to the dryer only to find... get this... MY ALL TIME FAVORITE BEADED T-SHIRT NOW THE SIZE OF A STUNNING NAPKIN! I was soooooooo pissed. I couldn't believe it. This fabulous favorite t-shirt would now be a perfect fit for any two year old. DAMNIT. I can't believe how dumb I am. There goes one of my favorite outfits, 1-2-3 right down the drain. Worst of all, I have no one else to blame but myself. CAN YOU BELIEVE WHAT AN IDIOT I AM???

Don't ask. I was so aggravated at myself that I quickly closed all the paints, swore like a sailor, and decided I was in no frame of mind whatsoever to continue with my good deed. That's the bad news. The good news however, is that on Sunday, I cooled down, went back to the paint project and boom. I wound up with a perfectly lovely blanket stand that I just KNEW Pat would wind up loving. And... sure enough... I was right! She walked in my house today, closing her eyes just as I had instructed, and the next thing I know, she was hugging me, smiling at me and thanking me. So basically... while the dryer definitely punished my good deed, Pat on the other hand rewarded me profusely. I never mentioned the fact I paid a hefty price for her finished masterpiece, but who cares. She, better than anyone, knows I have about 14 zillion other t-shirts from which to choose.

THE GREAT ESCAPE

Lucky for me, I am a multi talented woman. I'm just blessed, I guess. I can do ALL sorts of things and believe it or not, I can do them pretty well. Which reminds me... my latest talent is that of becoming a quasi plumber. I say quasi because I'll only allow my hand to go no further than maybe a half inch into the toilet tank, to re-adjust the control that deals with the water level. Going any further down into the tank would freak me out completely. I don't even know what the hell the control does other than regulate a running water problem, but whatever. Naturally, this talent is one that I HATE, but is a necessity, nonetheless.

Apparently, I've also got a talent for toy restoration. Who knew? Sherry recently moved into a new home and while packing, she came across a PlaySkool giraffe riding toy that used to belong to her now 35 year old son. It was aged indeed, but Sherry wanted her 3 year old grandson to be able to ride it when visiting, hence she asked that I repaint, update and redesign the giraffe. Bingo. I did the job and I'm so telling you... it's adorable! So adorable, in fact, that Claudia told me I can't give it back to her. She wants ME to keep it. See for yourself, there in the pict. It definitely has a sweet, happy look, and is now cheerfully tucked away on the floor in the corner of my kitchen. Too bad Sherry wants it back.

Yet an even better talent of mine, is that of being an expert iron-er. I don't remember who taught me... either my Mother or maybe Ada, a housekeeper of ours before I was even a teen. Or maybe it was Rosalie. I can't remember. Regardless, I took to this talent like a fish takes to water and the next thing you knew, every time my 17 year old brother needed a last minute pressed shirt for a date with Barbara, boom! I was hired. Mind you... if he was 17, then I was a mere 12. He looked pretty damn spiffy, too, I might add, thanks to my professional ironing job. In the meantime, I've found that lately, ironing not only helps your wardrobe to look immaculate and perfect, but... it also helps you to escape the woes of the day.

Enter: Last night. I flipped on the TV and brought out the ironing board/iron and got lost in pressing three pairs of slacks I had just taken from the dryer. Bear in mind... I do all I can to avoid buying ANY sort of clothing that requires ironing, but there's just so far you can go with that. I surfed all the channels, found that FUNNY FARM was on HBO, clicked onto it and began my job as Mistress of the Iron. It was a GREAT way to accomplish a needed chore, all the while, keeping my head in a mindless state of escape. I had seen the movie 12 times already I'll bet, but who cares. I listened and ironed and forgot all about the world at large. To tell you the truth, I could have easily gone on and on, but alas, I had nothing else to iron. Which was too bad, because I definitely decided that when things get crazed and harried, forget the need for a psychoanalyst... ironing is WAY better for calming one's nerves. And, way less costly. Or course, so too, are Oreos, Snicker Bars and even an occasional toke. Luckily, I'm not adverse to any of the above. Therefore, thanks Mr. Shrink, but no thanks. I seem to already have everything right smack in place for zoning out and enjoying a great escape.

MAN OH MAN

If only I could figure out what to write about, I'd surely do it. It's just that for the past week, I have been sooooo entrenched in what could possibly be the last days and/or weeks of my Dad's life; thus for the life of me, I simply can't imagine what sort of entry I could possibly add to this blog. It's been just so crazy. Claudia and I have been running around like chickens with their heads cut off for the past 5 days, finalizing/documenting all Dad's wishes. And, to make sure I wasn't crazed eNOUGH, get this... God decided to put a little additional twist to things; as in: send my Dad to the hospital. Don't ask.

Neither Claudia nor I expected the end might be this soon, and maybe it won't; but according to doctor's, maybe it will. It was an interesting little scene, to say the least, as Dr. Clark sat us down, kinda giving us a reality check. It was when he got into the DO NOT RESUSCITATE order, which up until now, Claudia was wholly against, did things come into clear focus. By the way, this DNR deal is no easy bit. If you DO choose to resuscitate, man are YOU in for some work. At best of course, you've got a chance to be revived. At worst, you'll possibly be revived alright, but with zillions of broken bones, all kinds of tubes, machines, etc. Uh... being so sick at 86 years old...it definitely makes you think twice.

Anyway, I'm soon off to the hospital yet again. Oh... I also learned something else, by the way. I was told that amongst doctor's there's apparently a thought whereby it's believed that "pneumonia is considered to be an old man's best friend", clearly implying that there comes a point when the pneumonia takes you right smack down the road an old man's body is supPOSED head. As in: forget every other medical condition. Pneumonia is going to kinda give your body a kick in the ass and say: Sorry my friend. You're simply too weak and too tired to go on. Geez... just what you want to hear.

So, basically... as you can see, there's not a whole hell of a lot for me to write about lately. Unless of course you want me to recant the aches, pains and stress of seeing your father deteriorate. Which, no thanks. I'm not going to do. Therefore, suffice it to say I love my Dad dearly and am pretty much focused on dealing with the probability of soon losing him. God only knows when I'll next feel like writing again nor what the hell I'll feel like saying. So, with that... catch you soon. For now, I'll be pretty damn busy praying that God will watch over my Dad, keep him comfortable, and give him peace. I love you, Dad.

FEELING TAXED

I sort of operate differently than everyone else in the country. Everyone ELSE does their tax preparation for the April 15th deadline. I always figure, I have until... uh... December 31st, maybe?? Which is why every summer, while the rest of the country is out enjoying fun in the sun, I'm instead, committed to reconciling my checkbook from the entire past year. Talk about a bulls#^t job!

It's crazy, I know. But, given my hate for financial matters, I like ignoring the entire tax deal right up until the very last minute. Consequently, here's how I work it; indeed, I keep a running tab each time I write a check, but I NEVER enter the info into my computer's money software until the summertime. Example: in the summer of 2007, I enter all the transactions that occurred in 2006. And... when doing it, I never do it by myself. I ALWAYS prevail upon someone to sit next to me, reading aloud all the checkbook transactions, which I enter one by one, from all of my four bank accounts.

So what this basically means, is that just TODAY Pat and I finished the 5 day job of entering all my banking info for the year 2006! Hence, I can now FINALLY give my accountant all the data needed for my tax preparations. YIPPEE! ANOTHER YEAR DOWN THE DRAIN. Thank God for small favors. Better yet: YEA! I DON'T HAVE TO ENTER ANYTHING INTO THE COMPUTER UNTIL NEXT SUMMER!!

What REALLY stymies me however, are people who actually prepare their tax form by themSELVES!! For the life of me, I would NEVER sit down with forms from the IRS and be anywhere NEAR able to fill in all the blanks. I consider abilities like that, pretty much on par with mathematical degrees from the Wharton School of Finance. Jesus.. my brain is fried from simply entering numbers into a computer. Can you iMAGine what my brain would be like after preparing a tax return?? Talk about AIN'T NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN. Besides, NOTHING in the world scares me more than the thought of an IRS audit. Well, actually one thing does... that being, any letter from any attorney's office. Never yet have I EVER had good news from an attorney.

Regardless, today is a day of celebration! I FINISHED COMPILING MY FINANCIAL DATA! Data which ordinarily is enough to make me hurl anyway, but at least I won't have to do this for another year. Halle-f-ing-lujah. Exactly what I'll do to mark this happy occasion, I don't yet know, but if I had to guess, it'll probably have something to do with a mighty fine meal. Of course the meal will be taxed... but at least I won't have to calculate such nonsense for the IRS.

GRAB YOUR MEDS

Talk about wired! You can't imagine how frenzied my insides feel right now. It's crazy. I am THIS far from grabbing some Valium. I NEED IT. Why, you ask? Basically, because... get this... I went to the movies! Forget the popcorn. Instead, head straight to your pharmacy.

Lately I've had so much on my mind that I JUMPED at the chance to go see HAIRSPRAY. I decided it was just what I needed for a wonderful escape into the world of dance and music. Now, I'm thinking I should have just jumped. Like maybe off the side of a mountain. Now THERE'S an escape, alright.

Don't get me wrong. I loved every minute of this movie. It was fabulous and if you haven't seen it yet, GO. Just be prepared to down some meds afterwards. The reason is simple: IT'S THE MOST HIGH POWERED, ENERGY LADEN MOVIE I'VE EVER SEEN in my entire life!! I mean it! Forget about being in the movie... you almost can't go SEE the movie. Well, maybe not at my age, anyway. All I could think of was: DEFINITELY FOR THE YOUNG. Way different than for THE YOUNG AT HEART. Which reminds me. If by chance you happen to actually HAVE a heart problem, you may want to reconsider buying a ticket.

Yes, the female star of the film was incredible. John Travolta and Michelle Pfeiffer were nothing short of fabulous. In fact, EVERYone was fabulous. But to me, the REAL winner of the entire film was none other than... tada... QUEEN LATIFAH! I swear... she was so damn great that I think she alone deserves the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress. Of course, the Academy never asks for me my opinion, but I'm offering it, nonetheless.

So... what can I tell you? There was more pumping and jumping in this one film than in any 37 others, combined. Which makes me think... am I getting too OLD to see musicals?? Am I the ONLY one to have left wired and in need of considering meds? More importantly, am I the only one who can't beLIEVE I was once so young as to actually have been able to prance all around like these actors??

Apparently so. If merely watching a musical like this can render me so filled with a rush of tension, I can see already, that by the time I begin taking my future grandchildren to a movie theater, I've got to first be sure they know ALL about CPR. Trust me... I may just need it.

WORSE THAN EXPECTED

Whenever I complain about the heat, Barbara always reminds me: DON'T COMPLAIN. It's a kinda cue she gives me, reminding me that if I REALLY want to bitch, just remember from whence I came. As in: Miami. She's right. I used to live in temperature hell.

For over five decades, I lived in a place where heat, humidity and possible hurricanes were the watch word of the city. Air conditioning was never even an option. You HAD to run it 24/7 no matter WHAT time of the year it was. Winter was nothing but a freakin' fallacy. Which is why, now that I'm in the stunning Smoky Mountains, I'm not allowed to complain. Ever.

Which is sort of a problem now, given summer is here and I am SO telling you... IT'S F-ING HOT! HOTTER THAN EVER. Almost a perfect match for Miami. What the hell is going ON?? I just now checked out the upcoming temps for this week and every day showed expected highs in the NINETIES!! WHAT??? Here?? In the cool, breezy, delightful western North Carolina mountains?? Ninety?? Ninety +?? Oh my God... I am sooooo not leaving my house. Thank GOD I stocked up on all those Wife Beater shirts I recently wrote about.

Barbara tells me I'm not allowed to complain... basically because in just six short weeks, guess what? IT'LL ALL BE OVER. Which is the real beauty of this place. Suffer from summer's heat if I must, but remember: in the end, before I know it, autumn will be here and bingo. STUNNING OUTDOOR TEMPS ONCE AGAIN. Which is never the way it was in Miami. Here, at least you know the end is in sight. And, it's that insight alone that gets me through this crazy heat.

I remember that for YEARS I'd come up here to visit my mother and each and every year I'd tell her JEEZ... WHAT'S WITH THIS HEAT?? She in turn would always reply: OH YEAH... THIS YEAR, WE'RE HAVING UNSEASONABLE HOT TEMPS. It took about three years of hearing this before I informed her: MOM... NEWS FLASH: Your UNseasonably has turned into real, live SEASONably by now. Feel free to kiss your concept of a cool summer goodbye. It ain't happening anymore.

Well, at least not in August. For, to be honest, even up to and including July, the summer heat was basically very do-able. It's only since August came around that this heat has gotten so way outta control. But... I'm not allowed to complain. So, I won't. I WILL tell you, however, this is far worse than I ever expected. Hence, why the ONLY thing I ever miss about Miami is my daily hop into the pool. That hop was my only saving grace to living in such an unbearable climate. And while the good news is that summer is pretty much short lived here, the bad news is that in mere months, the temps will THEN be way low. As in: FREEZING TO DEATH.

Which I guess is why I had better be real careful about complaining. Because as my Mother ALSO said, you want something to complain about? I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT. How about 20 degree lows? Hmmmm... she definitely had a point.

SPIC N SPAN

I've needed a car wash for ages now. Finally, today, I got one. I went to one of those quickie car wash/detailing sort of places where your car goes through the wash/rinse cycle and then real live people run out to hand clean the interior, the wheels, and basically, all the hard to reach places.

If you time it right, you don't even have to wait for 4 or 5 cars ahead of you, since THEN you'd have to wait like a half hour or something for everyone to get their allotted 6 minutes of detailing attention. As it happened however, today I lucked out. NO ONE was in front of me. I whizzed right in, got in line, paid my monies and boom. The car was gliding along the metal pulley lickety split as I watched the progress, and basically beamed with delight as I noted all the dirt that came running down the sides of my car. Yea. In no time flat, my stupid little car was soon going to be a clean, mean, driving machine.

Or, so I THOUGHT. Yeah, yeah, yeah. The car went through the wash and rinse cycle easily enough. It even went through the hand vacuuming bit easily enough. And, it also went through the exterior hand drying bit with great ease. It was the inTERior however, that apparently needed big help. As you know, I'm heavy into meticulous. Thus, for my measly $12 I really DID want a SUPER DUPER $175 detailing job. Apparently however, what I WANT and what I GET are alas, two different matters. SO different, in fact, that no sooner had I claimed my car, then boom. I noticed ZILLIONS of little nooks and crannies that still required meticulous cleaning and/or dusting to get the job REALLY done. Geez. Enter: Dilemma.

Do I complain or do I drive away? For a short moment, I was tempted to call the guy back over and say... UH, SORRY CHARLIE. YOU'RE NOT QUITE FINISHED HERE. WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH ALL THIS DIRT STILL HANGING AROUND EVERY LITTLE CREVICE? But... it was hot outside and I was eager to get home for my siesta. More importantly, I was just too freakin' lazy to start trouble with the guy at my local cheapo car wash place. Somehow I just couldn't get in the mood today to play Ms. SuperBitch. I know. So unlike me, right?

Thus, instead, I headed back home, pulled into the driveway, ran inside, grabbed what seemed like millions of Clorox wiping sheets, and simply did the crevices MYSELF. Boom. I turned into a regular car detailing kind of gal right there, on the spot. And, I must say... I did a damn good job, too! If you saw my car right this very minute, you'd almost have say: HEY! ACTUALLY LOOKS PRETTY DAMN SPIFFY THERE, INSIDE! Trust me... I got into every little baby opening I POSSibly could. And you know what? I really must say... EVERYTHING'S AS METICULOUSLY CLEAN AS I COULD EVER WANT!! Talk about if you want a job done right, DO IT YOURSELF!

Bottom Line? I can honestly now say that I'd be pleased as punch to chauffeur almost anyone I know to or fro, wherever they'd like, with complete confidence they'd be traveling in style! Well, okay. Maybe not in style... but certainly in CLEANLINESS. Which as we all know, is pretty much next to Godliness. And... I'm definitely a God faring sort of woman. Most of the time, anyway.