Things I found..PLUS...visual aides

I'm very intrigued because I found this unidentified object on the floor in the hallway. It's very hard plastic and has a hole in it lengthwise, all the way to the center on either side, but not all the way through. Nobody in the house recognizes it or claims it. I don't really think it was planted by aliens for purposes of spying, and I don't think it has any value....I think it's possibly just a piece of trash. But, for some reason, I can't bring myself to throw it away. It's driving me nuts.



I also found THIS thing. Only THIS thing was outside. I knew IMMEDIATELY what it was and it was NOT mine so I told it to go away.
I found this bag of homegrown tomatoes and peppers on my mama's kitchen counter. They are now on MY kitchen counter. Look at those little yellow ones...those are my favorite.


I found these impatiens at a local flower seller. She didn't take debit cards and I didn't have any cash with me. She told me to take them and pay her back another time. I couldn't believe it. Do people DO that anymore? It felt a lot like stealing but she was so insistent. Since I had already stolen my mama's tomatoes, I figured I was already in trouble so I took her up on her offer. I'm leaving to pay her now, but...


....I need to find some money first.

I just got a call...

My children left this afternoon to go to Waterville in Gulf Shores, AL with the youth group at church. Litkia is new to the group and Pateriko is an old hand. They both seemed pretty excited when I dropped them off, though. My instructions were that they were to be picked up at 9:30 this evening, but at about 7:30, I got a phone call. It was Pateriko saying that they left earlier than they planned and that I should come get him NOW. I said...."NOW? As in right this second?" He said yes, they were on their way and almost home. I told him no problem, and hung up. Then the phone rang again. This time it was Litkia. "Hey mama! We left early, so come get us at 8:15!" I said "8:15? But Pateriko said to come right now!" "No, they said come at 8:15, here's Pateriko..." She hands the phone to Pateriko but for some reason, the call ends before he gets on the line. At this point, I have no idea which one to believe. All I know is that I'm not going over there and sitting in that parking lot for 45 minutes. The phone rings again. It was Pateriko, again. "Sorry for hanging up on you mama, I didn't know you were still on the phone." "That's okay, but Litkia said to come at 8:15. That's 45 minutes from now! Where are you?" Suffice it to say he has no idea where he is and neither do any of the other teen-type people on the van. I'm not going up there until 8:15 and I'd like to see somebody try to make me. I'm almost thinking that life was easier when I was growing up and you couldn't call your mama until you got home because there was no such thing as a cell phone. It never hurt us to sit and wait for our parents to come pick us up. My kids are spoiled. I should make them sit there and suffer for 8 whole minutes (which is about how long it will take for me to get there from my driveway). Then when I pick them up I'll tell them about how things used to be when I was kid and bore them out of their minds with my stories of the horrors of having to pick up the phone with NO IDEA who might be on the other end because caller ID was a thing of the future or how if you wanted to call your friend you had to stick your finger in a hole and DIAL the number, and if it was a number with lots of 7's, 8's, 9's or 0's, you could be an old person by the time you got done. They just don't know how good they have it.

I know you're sick of hearing this - don't even read it

Hardly a day goes by that I don't have to type about someone who has just had bypass surgery. I think it's a crying shame that my job forces me to relive the death of my father over and over and over again. Some of these patients seem to be doing well, and others, not so much.

Tonight, once again, I find myself back in the hospital, sitting in fear and watching the nurse come into the waiting area, shaking her head, telling us she doesn't think he's going to make it. I'm watching my mother get on her knees in front of the chair she's sitting in and begin to pray even more earnestly, as if that was even possible. I'm exchanging a glance with Carol Baby, my mouth wide open, shocked and wondering how this could be happening and she mouthing words silently and privately to me that I will never forget as long as I live. I'm walking back to where he is laying and I'm standing and watching the nurse sew up his chest as I stand there in disbelief, looking back and forth at my sisters, willing it to be some horrible nightmare that I will wake up from. I'm standing there looking at my Mom who asks us to leave her alone with him and I'm stalking out of there so numb and angry and wondering why in the world they let us back there before they were done sewing him up. I'm sitting at the table with my family when mama asks us, "what do we do now?" and I have no idea what to answer. And although I honestly do feel better about the whole situation, my job really and truly sucks.

Fool me once...shame on me...

I don't like cantaloupe. I just don't. I like the color and the smell and I like how it looks on a plate straight from the cold fridge, but when I put it in my mouth I am surprised each and every time that I just do NOT like it. I think I probably should. Oh! And what about the dessert bar at a Chinese restaurant? It all looks pretty nice, but seriously...none of that stuff is worth putting in your mouth.

And then there's mustard potato salad. I assume that I don't like it, but when Dirty Larry buys it and then offers me a bite, I decide that I do like it after all. I would NEVER buy mustard potato salad on purpose. My brain immediately tells me no. But like I said, my tongue inevitably decides yes.



Here's the part that I just don't get. Why do I have to go through that process of convincing myself EVERY STINKIN' TIME it happens? It's like a brand new thing I've never experienced, even though I've experienced it numerous times in the past. It's a new, brilliant revelation each and every time. You know, it's kind of like childbirth. If a woman who gives birth is willing to go through that process YET again, it's more than likely because she's totally forgotten what happened the first time around.

I think since this is MY blog and I get to make up the rules here, I'm okay with comparing childbirth to the taste of a stale fortune cookie. And yes, I do eat those things even though the majority of the population apparently does not. You know why? Because EVERY TIME I get one, I think...it's a cookie! I'm bound to like it.

Ooow...my noggin!

My boy, Keifer Sutherland, who is on probation, (probably for killing somebody), has now gone off and head-butted a guy and he's gonna be in big trouble. Now, my question is...why, why, why in the world would a person make Jack Bauer mad enough to cause him to want to head-butt them? Does this person never watch television? I KNOW for sure why he's such a bitter, frightening man. His parents named him Kiefer William Frederick Dempsey George Rufus Sutherland. That's plenty enough to make you want to murder people.

The saddest part is that this unfortunate head-butting event happened so close to Jack Bauer appreciation day which falls on May 9th. Please my friends, let's think about our amazing friend, Jack, together, one last time before they cart him off to jail.

You know it really doesn't matter. He'll escape.

Wanted...Dead or Alive

What a smashing weekend my blog friends. My high school buddy and I made a trip to New Orleans to attend the fabulous Jazz Fest and see my old flame Jon Bon Jovi. I thought I'd go over some of the highlights for you. The big let down for the weekend was that my back stage passes did NOT make it through the mail in time and I was subjected to the crowds like everyone else. Jon was singing to me, but I just couldn't get close enough to the stage to talk to him and he was pretty much brokenhearted.

Anyway, we arrived Saturday morning and joy of joys they let us in the hotel BEFORE 12:00 when the check in time wasn't until 3:00. It was the first weekend miracle and was on the list of weekend miracles at #3. We immediately set out for the french quarter to find food. After a bit of walking, we ended up at the Palace Cafe, where you have 7 waiters that all love you very much and only have your happiness in mind. Then we tried to determine how to get to Jazz Fest without getting lost or breaking the bank. We ended up on a bus and paid the nice driver $1.25 for the lift. When the bus stopped, we actually had no idea where we were but we acted very cool and just followed the crowd. That many people couldn't all be wrong at the same time. Sure enough, after a few blocks of walking, they led us to the fairgrounds where we began our next adventure, which was trying to figure out where a person might find the Gospel Tent (Aaron Neville) or the Lagniappe Stage (Bobby Lounge). We walked and we walked and we walked some more. Luckily, it wasn't terribly hot and I'm in smashing shape (shut up). The music was great, the company was pleasant and the people watching opportunities were amazing. Who knew there were so many people who thought those long spaghetti strap dresses looked good enough on them to wear out in public! After we had our fill of music, we found ourselves back on a bus, listening to the interesting conversations around us, ready to begin our search for dinner. We found ourselves back in the quarter and visited the Gumbo Shop, where we sat under the stars while we ate okra gumbo and red beans and rice, and rested our tired feet.

The next morning, we planned to meet our old pal Gnutcase at Cafe Du Monde for the obligatory french donut and got the bright idea to catch a street car to our destination. I hopped on one and my friend was right behind me. Sadly the mean driver person told her she couldn't have her coffee, so she hopped back off to discard her cup. In the meantime, mean driver lady tried to shut the danged door on me. It was unnecessary to say the least. The picture you see here is the picture I took while we were still both pretty happy about our TROLLEY ride. I'm calling it that because we were specifically told NOT to call it a trolley, but I'm a little disgruntled, so....anyway, we finally were both seated and on our way, when suddenly out of the blue, the street car (trolley) turned a corner and started going in a direction that we did NOT want to go. Now we hated the mean driver person even more. Eventually we did disembark, but it was WAY FAR AWAY from where we needed to be, so we walked and walked and walked some more. Miracle #2 is that I didn't maim/dismember that mean driver person. We did finally find Gnut and eat our beignet and we sat and watched the river for a bit and once again rested our sad, tired feet. Gnut was kind enough to drive us back to the jeep for our departure out of the city. I do want it said that my Tom Tom tried to take us everywhere BUT Interstate 10 on the way home. I have no idea why, but we were smart enough to ignore that British accented voice and got the heck out of Dodge without her help at all.

That leads us to miracle #1, which is that I STILL woke up this morning and ran two miles on aching legs. You are proud. Don't pretend not to be.

You guys come next time...was fun!

*pats herself on the back*

Today, I am proud of me. In fact, I've been proud of me for quite a while now, but today, especially, I'm impressed with myself. Let's go back over the years of this blog and try to remember that I am mostly known as a sedentary soul. My job offers me no prospects for moving around. I sit at this computer all day and type away with no office mates or lunch buddies. I just sit. But, back in September, I joined that gym, remember? That moment has changed my way of thinking about some things. Not only have I dropped some weight, and changed my eating habits a little, I have now convinced myself that I can run. Well....I can run on the treadmill at least, but I promise you I'm thinking further into the future and it really does involve being outside. So what is my grand accomplishment? I ran 2.25 miles today without stopping. It took me 30 minutes at a very steady and obviously slow pace, but I did it. And, on top of that, I feel confident that I can do it tomorrow and the next day and again and again. So I will. And maybe, just maybe, one day I'll go faster or farther, but for today....just look at what I did!

Bling Bling

It is official. I have taken the silver toe ring from the jewelry box and placed it on the second toe of my left foot where it will reside for the next 5 months**. It's a sign of spring. It's a sign of new beginnings, flip flops and pedicures. It's the same toe ring that I saw on the foot of my sister, CB, many years ago and coveted. I did not steal it. Just sayin'.

**appromixation

These are a few of my buggiest things...

1. It bugs me that this guy I know just spelled the word 'coming' with two m's, like 'comming'. I just think since he's 42, he's had plenty of time to see that word spelled correctly by now and should realize his incredible wrongness. I wouldn't mind so much if it were a typo, but I know in my heart of hearts that it just wasn't. And along that same line of thinking, there is somebody that I will not name here that uses the word centurion in place of the word centenarian. I wouldn't care so much, but this person is completely brilliant and again, should just know better.


2. It bugs me that my hair is falling out at such an alarming rate that I will more than likely be completely bald by the time I get in to see the doctor in May for my scheduled appointment. I went to a funeral yesterday and the lady sitting in front of me had SO VERY LITTLE hair that I could see straight through to her scalp and I just could NOT concentrate on anything else for thinking about my own danged head.


3. When I buy a fresh pineapple and spend all that time sticking myself and generally being uncomfortable while preparing it to be eaten, and then ask my kids to take the top out to the yard and plant it, it bugs me that they inevitably pick the absolute worst place in the yard to put it. It's usually somewhere NEAR a flower bed, but actually in the grass in the yard. I spent a little time walking around digging them up the other day and replanting them in a bed where they have a better chance of surviving a lawn mower incident. I still can't believe those things continue to live and grow. It's actually very cool and not as buggy as I originally thought, now that I've typed it all out.


4. The Terminex man really bugs me. No pun intended. (Well OBVIOUSLY it was intended). Anyway, for starters, he is a creepy little guy. When he came a month ago for the annual termite thingy, he admitted to standing outside my bedroom door in the hallway listening as I typed dictation. I'm sorry, but that's just creepy. Then Thursday, when he was here spraying for bugs, he saw a snake in the backyard. He came to the door and said in a very quiet voice so the children wouldn't hear, "I don't want to alarm you or anything, but I saw a snake in your backyard". When I asked him if he got it, he said "no" and when I asked him what kind it was he said "I don't know", to which I responded, "Oh come on! Aren't you supposed to know that kind of thing?" He said it was "blackish and about 3 feet long". I could tell he wanted me to get all upset but I just couldn't give him the satisfaction. Yeah, he pretty much bugs me a LOT more than that pineapple thing.


5. It bugs me that I would rather do ANYTHING than work today, including typing up a ridiculous blog post about absolutely nothing. I should really get back to it now, even though my heart is just...not...in...it.

It would be like picking a fight with a porcupine...

...people would watch, but you'd end up looking and feeling like a pincushion.

There are moments in this life when a person might accomplish something that they can feel extremely prideful about; something that is worth boasting about. I think I spend a lot of time on the brilliant blog and facebook bragging about myself and trying to make myself look a little more awesome than I probably am. I do tend to ask people to drink my Kool-Aid and become a Beejite like all the cool kids. I sort of crave the scraps of attention that putting myself on display seems to bring. But this woman rubbing 24 chilies in her eyes is just dumb. The Beej will never even be tempted in the least to bring attention to herself in such a manner. Why would a person do such an insane thing? All I can come up with is that she, as a matter of fact, is actually insane. If it looks like an insane person, acts like an insane person, walks like an insane person and talks like an insane person, it probably IS an insane person. Somebody get that lady some water...and a psychotherapist.