This happened in 2002. Aren't you glad we have recovered since then?
All week long I have been looking for a package of books with two tickets to a seminar my girlfriends and I plan to attend next week. Mary got hers; Kara got hers. I should have received mine, and the one I ordered for Donna by now. I called the bookstore to make sure they had sent them. They promised that they had, and gave me a tracking I.D and phone number to call. I called UPS and was told that they delivered the package to my front porch on January 3rd at 4:04 p.m. That was over a week ago and I still had not seen the books. I called Steve at home to have him check the front porch. He reported there was nothing there, and that he had not seen a package. A day later I called the bookstore again to have them put a tracer on the package. When I arrived home from work Friday the UPS driver was knocking at my door. I signed a voucher stating that I had not received the package so the sender could be reimbursed.
I put my things down on the dining room table and noticed a padded yellow envelope in the corner of the room beneath the high chair. I picked it up and opened it. It was from Malaprop’s bookstore containing two books and two tickets. “STEVE, what can you tell me about this package?”
“It came last week sometime.”
“Do you mean on January 3rd at 4:04 p.m.?”
“I dunno. Why?”
“Because this is the package I’ve been looking for all week! That is why UPS was knocking on our door just now.”
“Oops!”
“Steve, why did you put it in such a remote and illogical place?”
“So Java wouldn’t get it.”
“Why would the dog want my package when she’s got dog balls in her bowl?” I asked, “Besides she could still reach it on the floor behind the high chair!”
“She was bothering it when I put it on the floor over here,” he said pointing to a place near the door.
“What about on the table? Next time could you put it on the table or in my room?”
I let it go when I noticed he was taking something out of the oven. He was making beef jerky. “Where did you get meat?” I asked. I knew there wasn’t much in the house in the way of groceries.
“I found a steak in the refrigerator.” No telling how long it had been in there, so I prayed a silent blessing over it as he took a bite and tried to offer some to me. “No, thanks,” I said graciously.
When Frankie got home from work, he and I went to the store to get food so the boy wouldn’t have to eat left olders. We brought home a nice chuck roast for Steve. His eyes lit up when I handed it to him, and he immediately went to work slicing and spicing. I had a terrible head cold so I went to lie down, while the boys made dinner.
The next day Steve got up and pulled out his chuck roast and started to work again. He said that since that I missed dinner last evening, I needed a makeup dinner. He said I could use a lesson on how to cook steaks and make jerky, so I watched as he taught me what I needed to know. While he was grilling the steaks, I pulled out some cabbage, celery, mushrooms, and onion to start a soup. Steve was curious about what I was making. “I like cabbage,” he said.
“I’ll share with you,” I replied as I caught a glimpse of his dad shaking his head, “NO!” while waving his hand under his nose. I gave him a puzzled look. Steve saw me and turned to see what dad was doing. Frankie explained that I might not like the effects cabbage would have on his boy later. The meal was nothing less than gourmet, and I enjoyed sharing the kitchen with my stepson. Afterward, Frankie took Steve with him on an errand, and I was left in charge of the jerky left baking on a sheet of foil in the oven.
The two returned in about an hour, and started working on the computer while I was reading a book in my room. Kathryn, Steve’s girlfriend arrived about the time Frankie went to the kitchen and opened a box of jalapeno poppers. When he put them in the oven, it reminded me of the jerky. I looked in the oven and didn’t see the jerky, only the poppers. “Where did you put the jerky when you put the poppers in the oven?” I asked Frankie.
“They were not in the oven.” That brought Steve and Kathryn to the kitchen.
“What did you do with my jerky?” asked Steve.
“What did YOU do with your jerky?” asked Frankie.
They both looked at me. “I didn’t move the jerky. I checked on it while you were gone but I didn’t take it out of the oven.”
“Dad?”
“Expressy?”
“No.” I answered. “I told you I didn’t move it. Maybe Java ate it! She probably thought it was a book or a package in the mail.”
“She can’t open the oven!” Steve reminded us.
“Then who took the jerky?” Dad was really puzzled.
“Yeah, WHERE’S the beef?” I retorted.
We searched all over the kitchen for the hidden delicacy trying to discover who might be the one playing a practical joke. We even thought Kathryn might have moved it, or perhaps someone came in the backdoor and stole it, or maybe we had a ghost who likes jerky. We gave up after a while still wondering why no one was coming forward to claim the award for the best practical joke.
Kat and Steve were leaving when I smelled something burning. I opened the oven door to check on the poppers and noticed the edge of the foil under the baking sheet the poppers were on. “FRANKIE, you put the poppers on top of the jerky!”
“I did?”
“Yes, and it’s burning!”
He ran out the door to let Steve know the mystery had been solved. Steve came back in the house, grabbed his crunchy charred jerky, and left before anyone could hide it again. Is it gender or genetics that causes these two guys to hide things from themselves and others?
Showing posts with label teenagers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teenagers. Show all posts
Friday, October 2, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Another Addition to the Family
Steve had been really distant and belligerent concerning his schoolwork. We knew that something was bothering him but he wouldn’t talk about it. I thought it was because he was frustrated with Frankie’s constant lecturing about getting the assignments done. Steve called me at work today to tell me that his girlfriend is pregnant! He’s 16 and she’s 17, and both are still in high school. Steve wants me to help him break the news to his dad. That should be fun – especially after all the talks they’ve had about safe or no sex. To help relieve some of the tension, I am taking an active role in Steve’s schooling. I will be doing the English and History portion with him. I’m sure it will all work out fine - God help us all.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Breakdown
My daughter spent the night at my house this weekend. She parked behind Frankie’s black 1994 Grand Am. When he got ready to leave for golfing this morning, he was blocked in. Rather than wake my daughter for the keys to her car, Frankie and I decided to swap cars with one another for the day. Later My Daughter asked me to go with her to check out some apartments about an hour’s drive from my house near one of the colleges she is prospecting to attend once she graduates high school. There was no need to take two cars and since her Blazer wasn’t running well we decided to take Frankie’s car.
We got almost to the little town when she remembered that she had left the Apartment Blue Book in her car. We stopped by Amoco to pick up another one. That’s when I noticed the heat gauge on Frankie’s car was indicating 280 degrees. That’s past the red zone! Even tea kettles boil over at that temperature. It was obvious that we weren’t going to be traveling anywhere anytime soon so we ate a bag of chips while we waited for the engine to cool enough to add coolant. After about 30 minutes and a half-gallon of water, the needle was still at 280 and the radiator was dripping green water. I needed expert help so I called Frankie. He wasn’t home. I called my son, the mechanic. He wasn’t at work or home. The attendant at the Amoco was very helpful. She recommended that we call a towing service that would tow us for $40 and give a free estimate. It was an offer too good to refuse. “Send them on.” I told her.
My Daughter and I were hungry, but I couldn’t leave the station to walk up the street to the Waffle House, which was the only eating establishment in sight. Surely there would be a McDonald’s within walking distance once we got the car to the garage. Gray’s Wrecker Service came for us about 45 minutes after phoning them. Frankie’s car was pulled onto the bed of a big red tow-truck. The driver took us down several winding roads into the countryside. With every turn I was getting more lost, more worried, and farther away from town. When we turned into a you-pull-it salvage yard, my heart sank. There would be no McDonalds near here, and I wasn’t sure the junkyard dog heading toward us was going to be friendly. Never mind the dog, take note of the five toothless mechanics who were now peering into the hood of the Grand Am as if it were fresh meat! Does the movie “Breakdown” mean anything to you? Oh, my God! What have I gotten myself into? I broke Frankie’s car, and now I’m in the junkyard on the backside of nowhere with my teenage daughter. We were the only females there. I was not too sure what kind of “payment” would be expected before we could leave here. I was trying not to panic or let My Daughter know that I was afraid, so we took a walk around the wrecked cars. We were told the story about one demolished car we saw: a lady hit a cow head on. The cow came through the windshield. The impact of the cow’s weight killed the driver. Death by cow!! What a sad story. I'll wait while you get a mental picture of that.
We both had to pee, so we headed toward the lean-to that served as the office. We climbed the concrete block steps onto the creaky old wooden porch. There were two antique drink machines under the shelter. There was a woman in the office, much to my relief. She directed us down the hall to the restroom. While I was washing my hands in the dilapidated restroom, I noticed a sign that read: IF YOU HAVE GREASE ON YOUR HANDS, DON’T EVEN TOUCH THIS SINK. IF YOU PEE IN THE FLOOR, MOP IT UP! I kid you not. I checked for dribbles and hurried out. I noticed an old snack machine in the hall and thought we were in luck with some animal crackers. When I tried to put a coin in, the coin slot had been drilled out. I tried turning the handle, but nothing happened. No telling how long since the stock had been rotated.
The tiny office trailer had five different types of carpet and linoleum. There were two very old chairs so we took a seat to wait. Surely it wouldn’t be long. My Daughter chose the orange plaid chair with the stuffing falling out the arm. I took the swivel desk chair, which nearly turned over backwards when I sat down. My Daughter started laughing so hard she went back outside to keep from embarrassing herself. I called Frankie to let him know the progress of our dilemma.
After about an hour we walked to the garage to check on the car. Diagnosis: the clip that was holding the radiator to the frame had broken and allowed the radiator to fall onto the fan. The fan had put 12 holes in the core. The mechanic was pounding the hell out of the radiator with a screwdriver. He then informed us that he did not know how to do radiator repairs. Fine time to tell us! He called the radiator man but couldn’t get him at home. He set out to find him.
It was raining by then so we went back into the dingy office to wait. I was sitting very gingerly in the swivel chair behind the desk when a customer walked in. He asked me about a part for a Chevy Impala. I explained to him that I did not work there, nor did I want to be there. Just then the owner walked in wearing an old Indiana Jones hat. I don’t know how people found this place in the middle of nowhere, but more customers kept coming in to ask me questions, and I decided it was time to move to another seat.
We went back outside when it stopped raining. There was a black man staring at us. He was holding a braided whip. He would occasionally strike the ground with it, look at us, and grin widely. Several times during the day a child would appear from nowhere. I don’t know where they were keeping the kids - perhaps they were ghosts, but they would appear at random. I was beginning to wonder what kind of place this was. I felt uncomfortable, but there was nowhere to go. I felt like I was in a bad dream. I was hoping I would wake up soon.
Still hungry, I pulled out a leftover bag of pork rinds. Talk about appearing out of nowhere, now there were two dogs and they both wanted my food! My Daughter was ready to bail on me. She had missed her 2:00 shift at work by now. She called a friend who agreed to come and pick her up. Only problem was that we didn’t know how to give her directions to get to us. We were so far in the boonies that I was sure I couldn’t get back to civilization without a map. We had to ask Indiana Jones to take the phone and tell Michele how to get there. I listened carefully in case we got a chance to escape. It appeared that the car was not going to be fixed today so I planned to leave it overnight. Michele was on her way to get My Daughter and I was going with her. I called Frankie to have him meet me at My Daughter’s work to pick me up. After about 30 minutes, Michele called and said she was not going to be able to make it. My Daughter and I nearly cried. Frankie was already on his way, and I had no way to tell him that I wasn’t going to be able to leave Alcatraz today. My Daughter begged, whined, threatened and reminded Michele of every favor she had ever done for her. Michele called back in ten minutes to tell us that she was indeed coming to rescue us.
It took an hour to find the radiator man but he was sobering up by the time he got there. It took him 15 minutes to do his magic and 30 minutes to get the radiator back in the car. Since the car was nearly ready, I let My Daughter leave me there and go to the city with her friend. I was alone in the garage with Whip Man, Radiator Man, the mechanic, and a cat that had recently appeared on the hood of a nearby car. I got in the Grand Am and locked my doors! Frankie called my cell phone to find out where I was since I had not met him. I told him I had been abducted by aliens and was having too much fun to leave yet.
I left Weirdsville about 5:45 having only to pay $105 for the experience of a lifetime. I was never so glad to see home, Frankie, and pizza, as I was when I walked into the house.
I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone all day. I may need therapy to get over this.
TO: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
FROM: Angelgirl@heavensent.com
SENT: September 4, 2000 8:39 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
I just have to ask. Are these real stories?
TO: Angelgirl@heavensent.com
FROM: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
SENT: September 4, 2000 8:39 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
No, I’m living vicariously through someone else.
TO: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
FROM: Kurlikew@Bcuz.net
SENT: September 7, 2000 7:48 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
I have three letters for you ........... A A A
TO: Kurlikew@Bcuz.net
FROM: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
SENT: September 8, 2000 8:30 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
AAA? Is that an Associate’s in Automotive Antics? Perhaps it’s a 3-year degree at the local U-PULL-IT.
TO: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
FROM: Alva@stateofmind.com
SENT: September 8, 2000 9:09 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
This would be a great movie “Lost in Weirdsville.” Thank goodness I don't have any Weirdsville stories to share!
TO: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
FROM: Suzysunflower@kansasgarden.com
SENT: September 8, 2000 9:27 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
Well, here is the latest adventure of a senile old granny. I told some of you that I have been having major car problems with the Taurus Wagon, well, my little Escort sprung a leak in the gas tank. No big deal, huh. Well, I found out the cost for a new Escort gas tank is $462! I could not believe that. I thought there has to been a cheaper one somewhere! My landlord has a friend in Texarkana who owns a “you pull it auto parts” place. James and I headed out to Texarkana with toolbox in hand. We got to the car graveyard and they had five Escorts to choose from. We picked out a 1995 model that wasn't crunched in the rear, crawled under and sure enough, the gas tank wasn't hurt. We got all our tools out, crawled under and started undoing nuts and bolts trying to get the “guard” off the tank. Now one thing you need to know is that they keep this place really clear of grass by having loads of rock dumped where the junked cars are parked on the dirt. So, we were lying on these rocks while twisting and turning to reach up over our head to get the tank off. I was holding the tank up while James worked to get the seven-year-old rusty bolts off. It was about 95 degrees and at least 195 under that car. After an hour and forty-five minutes, we finally got the tank free, but it had to drop down and slide out from under the car. The only problem was they had the car sitting on tires and the tires were in the way for the tank to slide out. James said he thought we could “squeeze” the tank past the tire. We were half under the car, kicking the tank to get it free and past the rubber tire. Suddenly, a Mexican kid was bending down looking under the car staring right in my face. (I guess we were a sight to see, and really making a heck of a lot of noise). He suddenly started hollering “Grand Mamacita! You get seeek! Get up, Get up! you get seeek!” and he started dragging me from under the car. James crawled out to see what was going on. This kid (a teenager) made me sit down and took off his shirt and starting fanning me! I do get really red in the face when out in the sun and heat plus we were soaking wet from sweat and dirty from the rocky ground. He kept saying “Grand Mamacita get seeek! Grand Mamacita get seeek!” (I realized he meant sick!) His parents could not speak English but after they jabbered awhile, the boy told James his dad would help. So the dad got under the car with James and while they pulled and kicked, the boy and his mom kept fanning me and jabbering in Mexican! With the man's help, James finally got the tank free from the car. Only then did this kid get out of my face. I tried to give them some money for helping but they would not take it. He told James, “Get Grand Mamacita some water so she not get seeek.” Poor James, he was the one who needed water after two hours of hard work! We dragged our “prize tank” to the truck, paid for it and started the 48-mile drive back home. We did take some water with us and as we drank it, we rolled down the windows, let the air blow us away and laughed and laughed. I guess that kid had never seen an old gray hair granny under a car kicking and sweating bullets. All in all, the tank cost less than $50 so it was worth all the effort. I did pay someone to have it put on. I would not put James through getting the leaking tank off my Escort. We were both so sore the next day we could hardly walk. I don't know if it was from the rocks or the kicking! You really haven't “bonded” with family members until you have been under a car robbing parts! Expressy, here's another true chapter for your “red neck family” book!
Love to all!
Aunt, The Sunflower Suzy
FROM: Sunflower@kansasgarden.com
DATE: September 8, 2000 12:56 PM
TO: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
Dang, Aunt Suzy. That sounds like something I’d do. I wonder if this is an untreated family condition!?
We got almost to the little town when she remembered that she had left the Apartment Blue Book in her car. We stopped by Amoco to pick up another one. That’s when I noticed the heat gauge on Frankie’s car was indicating 280 degrees. That’s past the red zone! Even tea kettles boil over at that temperature. It was obvious that we weren’t going to be traveling anywhere anytime soon so we ate a bag of chips while we waited for the engine to cool enough to add coolant. After about 30 minutes and a half-gallon of water, the needle was still at 280 and the radiator was dripping green water. I needed expert help so I called Frankie. He wasn’t home. I called my son, the mechanic. He wasn’t at work or home. The attendant at the Amoco was very helpful. She recommended that we call a towing service that would tow us for $40 and give a free estimate. It was an offer too good to refuse. “Send them on.” I told her.
My Daughter and I were hungry, but I couldn’t leave the station to walk up the street to the Waffle House, which was the only eating establishment in sight. Surely there would be a McDonald’s within walking distance once we got the car to the garage. Gray’s Wrecker Service came for us about 45 minutes after phoning them. Frankie’s car was pulled onto the bed of a big red tow-truck. The driver took us down several winding roads into the countryside. With every turn I was getting more lost, more worried, and farther away from town. When we turned into a you-pull-it salvage yard, my heart sank. There would be no McDonalds near here, and I wasn’t sure the junkyard dog heading toward us was going to be friendly. Never mind the dog, take note of the five toothless mechanics who were now peering into the hood of the Grand Am as if it were fresh meat! Does the movie “Breakdown” mean anything to you? Oh, my God! What have I gotten myself into? I broke Frankie’s car, and now I’m in the junkyard on the backside of nowhere with my teenage daughter. We were the only females there. I was not too sure what kind of “payment” would be expected before we could leave here. I was trying not to panic or let My Daughter know that I was afraid, so we took a walk around the wrecked cars. We were told the story about one demolished car we saw: a lady hit a cow head on. The cow came through the windshield. The impact of the cow’s weight killed the driver. Death by cow!! What a sad story. I'll wait while you get a mental picture of that.
We both had to pee, so we headed toward the lean-to that served as the office. We climbed the concrete block steps onto the creaky old wooden porch. There were two antique drink machines under the shelter. There was a woman in the office, much to my relief. She directed us down the hall to the restroom. While I was washing my hands in the dilapidated restroom, I noticed a sign that read: IF YOU HAVE GREASE ON YOUR HANDS, DON’T EVEN TOUCH THIS SINK. IF YOU PEE IN THE FLOOR, MOP IT UP! I kid you not. I checked for dribbles and hurried out. I noticed an old snack machine in the hall and thought we were in luck with some animal crackers. When I tried to put a coin in, the coin slot had been drilled out. I tried turning the handle, but nothing happened. No telling how long since the stock had been rotated.
The tiny office trailer had five different types of carpet and linoleum. There were two very old chairs so we took a seat to wait. Surely it wouldn’t be long. My Daughter chose the orange plaid chair with the stuffing falling out the arm. I took the swivel desk chair, which nearly turned over backwards when I sat down. My Daughter started laughing so hard she went back outside to keep from embarrassing herself. I called Frankie to let him know the progress of our dilemma.
After about an hour we walked to the garage to check on the car. Diagnosis: the clip that was holding the radiator to the frame had broken and allowed the radiator to fall onto the fan. The fan had put 12 holes in the core. The mechanic was pounding the hell out of the radiator with a screwdriver. He then informed us that he did not know how to do radiator repairs. Fine time to tell us! He called the radiator man but couldn’t get him at home. He set out to find him.
It was raining by then so we went back into the dingy office to wait. I was sitting very gingerly in the swivel chair behind the desk when a customer walked in. He asked me about a part for a Chevy Impala. I explained to him that I did not work there, nor did I want to be there. Just then the owner walked in wearing an old Indiana Jones hat. I don’t know how people found this place in the middle of nowhere, but more customers kept coming in to ask me questions, and I decided it was time to move to another seat.
We went back outside when it stopped raining. There was a black man staring at us. He was holding a braided whip. He would occasionally strike the ground with it, look at us, and grin widely. Several times during the day a child would appear from nowhere. I don’t know where they were keeping the kids - perhaps they were ghosts, but they would appear at random. I was beginning to wonder what kind of place this was. I felt uncomfortable, but there was nowhere to go. I felt like I was in a bad dream. I was hoping I would wake up soon.
Still hungry, I pulled out a leftover bag of pork rinds. Talk about appearing out of nowhere, now there were two dogs and they both wanted my food! My Daughter was ready to bail on me. She had missed her 2:00 shift at work by now. She called a friend who agreed to come and pick her up. Only problem was that we didn’t know how to give her directions to get to us. We were so far in the boonies that I was sure I couldn’t get back to civilization without a map. We had to ask Indiana Jones to take the phone and tell Michele how to get there. I listened carefully in case we got a chance to escape. It appeared that the car was not going to be fixed today so I planned to leave it overnight. Michele was on her way to get My Daughter and I was going with her. I called Frankie to have him meet me at My Daughter’s work to pick me up. After about 30 minutes, Michele called and said she was not going to be able to make it. My Daughter and I nearly cried. Frankie was already on his way, and I had no way to tell him that I wasn’t going to be able to leave Alcatraz today. My Daughter begged, whined, threatened and reminded Michele of every favor she had ever done for her. Michele called back in ten minutes to tell us that she was indeed coming to rescue us.
It took an hour to find the radiator man but he was sobering up by the time he got there. It took him 15 minutes to do his magic and 30 minutes to get the radiator back in the car. Since the car was nearly ready, I let My Daughter leave me there and go to the city with her friend. I was alone in the garage with Whip Man, Radiator Man, the mechanic, and a cat that had recently appeared on the hood of a nearby car. I got in the Grand Am and locked my doors! Frankie called my cell phone to find out where I was since I had not met him. I told him I had been abducted by aliens and was having too much fun to leave yet.
I left Weirdsville about 5:45 having only to pay $105 for the experience of a lifetime. I was never so glad to see home, Frankie, and pizza, as I was when I walked into the house.
I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone all day. I may need therapy to get over this.
TO: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
FROM: Angelgirl@heavensent.com
SENT: September 4, 2000 8:39 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
I just have to ask. Are these real stories?
TO: Angelgirl@heavensent.com
FROM: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
SENT: September 4, 2000 8:39 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
No, I’m living vicariously through someone else.
TO: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
FROM: Kurlikew@Bcuz.net
SENT: September 7, 2000 7:48 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
I have three letters for you ........... A A A
TO: Kurlikew@Bcuz.net
FROM: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
SENT: September 8, 2000 8:30 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
AAA? Is that an Associate’s in Automotive Antics? Perhaps it’s a 3-year degree at the local U-PULL-IT.
TO: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
FROM: Alva@stateofmind.com
SENT: September 8, 2000 9:09 PM
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
This would be a great movie “Lost in Weirdsville.” Thank goodness I don't have any Weirdsville stories to share!
TO: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
FROM: Suzysunflower@kansasgarden.com
SENT: September 8, 2000 9:27 AM
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
Well, here is the latest adventure of a senile old granny. I told some of you that I have been having major car problems with the Taurus Wagon, well, my little Escort sprung a leak in the gas tank. No big deal, huh. Well, I found out the cost for a new Escort gas tank is $462! I could not believe that. I thought there has to been a cheaper one somewhere! My landlord has a friend in Texarkana who owns a “you pull it auto parts” place. James and I headed out to Texarkana with toolbox in hand. We got to the car graveyard and they had five Escorts to choose from. We picked out a 1995 model that wasn't crunched in the rear, crawled under and sure enough, the gas tank wasn't hurt. We got all our tools out, crawled under and started undoing nuts and bolts trying to get the “guard” off the tank. Now one thing you need to know is that they keep this place really clear of grass by having loads of rock dumped where the junked cars are parked on the dirt. So, we were lying on these rocks while twisting and turning to reach up over our head to get the tank off. I was holding the tank up while James worked to get the seven-year-old rusty bolts off. It was about 95 degrees and at least 195 under that car. After an hour and forty-five minutes, we finally got the tank free, but it had to drop down and slide out from under the car. The only problem was they had the car sitting on tires and the tires were in the way for the tank to slide out. James said he thought we could “squeeze” the tank past the tire. We were half under the car, kicking the tank to get it free and past the rubber tire. Suddenly, a Mexican kid was bending down looking under the car staring right in my face. (I guess we were a sight to see, and really making a heck of a lot of noise). He suddenly started hollering “Grand Mamacita! You get seeek! Get up, Get up! you get seeek!” and he started dragging me from under the car. James crawled out to see what was going on. This kid (a teenager) made me sit down and took off his shirt and starting fanning me! I do get really red in the face when out in the sun and heat plus we were soaking wet from sweat and dirty from the rocky ground. He kept saying “Grand Mamacita get seeek! Grand Mamacita get seeek!” (I realized he meant sick!) His parents could not speak English but after they jabbered awhile, the boy told James his dad would help. So the dad got under the car with James and while they pulled and kicked, the boy and his mom kept fanning me and jabbering in Mexican! With the man's help, James finally got the tank free from the car. Only then did this kid get out of my face. I tried to give them some money for helping but they would not take it. He told James, “Get Grand Mamacita some water so she not get seeek.” Poor James, he was the one who needed water after two hours of hard work! We dragged our “prize tank” to the truck, paid for it and started the 48-mile drive back home. We did take some water with us and as we drank it, we rolled down the windows, let the air blow us away and laughed and laughed. I guess that kid had never seen an old gray hair granny under a car kicking and sweating bullets. All in all, the tank cost less than $50 so it was worth all the effort. I did pay someone to have it put on. I would not put James through getting the leaking tank off my Escort. We were both so sore the next day we could hardly walk. I don't know if it was from the rocks or the kicking! You really haven't “bonded” with family members until you have been under a car robbing parts! Expressy, here's another true chapter for your “red neck family” book!
Love to all!
Aunt, The Sunflower Suzy
FROM: Sunflower@kansasgarden.com
DATE: September 8, 2000 12:56 PM
TO: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
SUBJECT: RE: Breakdown
Dang, Aunt Suzy. That sounds like something I’d do. I wonder if this is an untreated family condition!?
Friday, May 8, 2009
Shopping with Teen
(circa 1999)
It was snowing when I took My Daughter to the mall yesterday to buy a pair of shoes. I left pinto beans warming on the stove so I had to hurry. I’d hate to have the dinner detector going off while I’m gone because it scares the blind dog. My Daughter and I were speed shopping in the mall, zipping from one store to the next asking, “Van or Airwalks, got them or not? Just shake your head, we’re in a hurry.”
We were practically running when we headed for the car. A woman was walking toward us using a cell phone. We heard her say, “Yeah, it’s really coming down out here…nah, just great big flakes….it ain’t stickin’ or nuthin’”
My Daughter, who was mad that we hadn’t found the right size, at the right price, in the right style shoe she wanted, sarcastically said, “Well, aren’t we special with our cell phone? There probably isn’t even anyone at the other end of that conversation.” I laughed when I realized I could do the same thing with that play phone I bought at the Dollar store last week!
Speaking of the Dollar Store, the one where everything’s $1.00, Cappi actually asked for a price check on one of the items. I nearly died laughing until I realized she was serious, then I was embarrassed. I’ve got to get new friends.
I gave Annie dog a bath today. The bathroom needed mopping anyway. God, I’m too old to have a baby dog. I’m having my checkbook tied after this one.
Time to practice my talent and walking down the runway. I’m going to win that ugly pajama pageant.
It was snowing when I took My Daughter to the mall yesterday to buy a pair of shoes. I left pinto beans warming on the stove so I had to hurry. I’d hate to have the dinner detector going off while I’m gone because it scares the blind dog. My Daughter and I were speed shopping in the mall, zipping from one store to the next asking, “Van or Airwalks, got them or not? Just shake your head, we’re in a hurry.”
We were practically running when we headed for the car. A woman was walking toward us using a cell phone. We heard her say, “Yeah, it’s really coming down out here…nah, just great big flakes….it ain’t stickin’ or nuthin’”
My Daughter, who was mad that we hadn’t found the right size, at the right price, in the right style shoe she wanted, sarcastically said, “Well, aren’t we special with our cell phone? There probably isn’t even anyone at the other end of that conversation.” I laughed when I realized I could do the same thing with that play phone I bought at the Dollar store last week!
Speaking of the Dollar Store, the one where everything’s $1.00, Cappi actually asked for a price check on one of the items. I nearly died laughing until I realized she was serious, then I was embarrassed. I’ve got to get new friends.
I gave Annie dog a bath today. The bathroom needed mopping anyway. God, I’m too old to have a baby dog. I’m having my checkbook tied after this one.
Time to practice my talent and walking down the runway. I’m going to win that ugly pajama pageant.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Car Door
This happened in 1999 when my daughter was about fifteen or sixteen years old. I'm still driving that Camry!
While I was upstairs dealing with the puppy, which must not hear well since she doesn’t mind at all, My Daughter backed out of the garage without closing the rear passenger door. Ugh! Major damage to my car, but didn’t hurt the garage. I drove around town the next day with the door partly open. It was closed at the bottom enough to catch, but the top was warped so badly it left a gap. People blew their horns at me while sitting at red lights, and yelled to me that my back door was open, so I taped a note to it that read, “We know – teenage driving hazard.” Today it looked like rain so we tied it shut with an electrical cord, and used duct tape to close the gap. If there are two things I can’t live without, it would be WD-40 and duct tape. WD-40 if it’s stuck; duct tape if it’s flapping - keeps many marriages and households running smoothly.
I can’t really fuss at My Daughter too much about her accident. I backed out of the garage without raising the door a few years ago. We not only had car damage, but house damage too! Mentioning damage, Annie is growing fast and she is strong as an ox! I wish she would leave the blind dog alone. Indi can’t defend herself against such a goof ball as Annie.
While I was upstairs dealing with the puppy, which must not hear well since she doesn’t mind at all, My Daughter backed out of the garage without closing the rear passenger door. Ugh! Major damage to my car, but didn’t hurt the garage. I drove around town the next day with the door partly open. It was closed at the bottom enough to catch, but the top was warped so badly it left a gap. People blew their horns at me while sitting at red lights, and yelled to me that my back door was open, so I taped a note to it that read, “We know – teenage driving hazard.” Today it looked like rain so we tied it shut with an electrical cord, and used duct tape to close the gap. If there are two things I can’t live without, it would be WD-40 and duct tape. WD-40 if it’s stuck; duct tape if it’s flapping - keeps many marriages and households running smoothly.
I can’t really fuss at My Daughter too much about her accident. I backed out of the garage without raising the door a few years ago. We not only had car damage, but house damage too! Mentioning damage, Annie is growing fast and she is strong as an ox! I wish she would leave the blind dog alone. Indi can’t defend herself against such a goof ball as Annie.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Beware of the Teenage Driver
A learner’s permit is a piece of paper that allows teenagers to legally take revenge on their parents. It also tests a parent’s reflexes. I don’t like driving from the passenger’s seat. My horn doesn’t blow, my brakes do not respond, and I can’t steer from this side of the car. All I can do is yell. It makes me a nervous wreck to have my daughter take my car and me over the curvy narrow back roads in Williamson County. Give me the 6-lane interstate and the 18-wheelers any day, but please don’t put me on those hilly curves with a teenager that thinks she’s an experienced driver now that she’s been driving for a whole month. She’s driving me crazy, and in that she does have experience.
My Daughter took a job at the Kroger store. It takes 20 minutes there, and 20 minutes home twice a day to accommodate her. Yesterday I took the Blazer to pick her up from work. It doesn’t glide and hover like my Camry, and I thought that would give me a chance to get over the whiplash I have from yesterday’s excursion. On the way home today, daughter slammed on the brakes and jerked us both forward when she nearly ran the stop sign. The Blazer went dead. She cranked it, but it went dead again going up the next hill. This time the car behind us nearly smashed into us. We lost steam going up the hill until we came to a complete stop and started rolling backwards.
“Brakes!” I yelled while stomping the floor on my side.
We started the truck again and got over the top of the hill before it died again. We were picking up steam on the downside of the hill, and since there are no shoulders on this steep, narrow road, we could not pull over. I saw a street coming up on the right and suggested that she turn in. She was headed toward the brick wall of Twelve Oaks Subdivision when I realized that she’d lost power steering when the engine died. I grabbed the wheel, used my ‘yell and stomp’ brakes, and managed to bring us to a safe landing in front of a brick mansion. That’s when I noticed that our gas level was low, and I hoped we had enough to get to a station. Guess what?! We didn’t. The truck would not crank so I walked up the driveway of mansion #1 only to be chased back to the truck by a three-legged dog. Close call.
I went to mansion #2 and rang the doorbell. A nice man let us use the phone to call My Husband. My Daughter and I sat in the truck singing silly songs, styling our hair, and waving at the rich folks who were coming home from work while we waited to be rescued. My Husband arrived 45 minutes later with a gas can. He poured gas into the fuel injection jets. We tried to crank it and it fired right up. It caught fire, that is! He grabbed an old glove and started beating the fire out, but it didn’t extinguish. I was about ready to call my friends at 9-1-1 when the fire went out on its own. The plastic hickies in the fuel injectors were melted pretty badly, but can you believe it? – the truck cranked, first try.
The next day I was off work. I wanted to sleep late but I had a dentist appointment at 8:45 a.m. I questioned my intelligence the whole way there wondering why I had made the appointment so early. I arrived and found out that my appointment had been cancelled and My Daughter had forgotten to tell me that my dentist had called the day before. I fumed all the way home and had a plan for retaliation by the time I arrived. I made My Daughter get up out of bed, clean her room, clean her bathroom, and do her schoolwork before I would take her to her job at 1:15. I bet she remembers to tell me next time someone calls.
(1998)
My Daughter took a job at the Kroger store. It takes 20 minutes there, and 20 minutes home twice a day to accommodate her. Yesterday I took the Blazer to pick her up from work. It doesn’t glide and hover like my Camry, and I thought that would give me a chance to get over the whiplash I have from yesterday’s excursion. On the way home today, daughter slammed on the brakes and jerked us both forward when she nearly ran the stop sign. The Blazer went dead. She cranked it, but it went dead again going up the next hill. This time the car behind us nearly smashed into us. We lost steam going up the hill until we came to a complete stop and started rolling backwards.
“Brakes!” I yelled while stomping the floor on my side.
We started the truck again and got over the top of the hill before it died again. We were picking up steam on the downside of the hill, and since there are no shoulders on this steep, narrow road, we could not pull over. I saw a street coming up on the right and suggested that she turn in. She was headed toward the brick wall of Twelve Oaks Subdivision when I realized that she’d lost power steering when the engine died. I grabbed the wheel, used my ‘yell and stomp’ brakes, and managed to bring us to a safe landing in front of a brick mansion. That’s when I noticed that our gas level was low, and I hoped we had enough to get to a station. Guess what?! We didn’t. The truck would not crank so I walked up the driveway of mansion #1 only to be chased back to the truck by a three-legged dog. Close call.
I went to mansion #2 and rang the doorbell. A nice man let us use the phone to call My Husband. My Daughter and I sat in the truck singing silly songs, styling our hair, and waving at the rich folks who were coming home from work while we waited to be rescued. My Husband arrived 45 minutes later with a gas can. He poured gas into the fuel injection jets. We tried to crank it and it fired right up. It caught fire, that is! He grabbed an old glove and started beating the fire out, but it didn’t extinguish. I was about ready to call my friends at 9-1-1 when the fire went out on its own. The plastic hickies in the fuel injectors were melted pretty badly, but can you believe it? – the truck cranked, first try.
The next day I was off work. I wanted to sleep late but I had a dentist appointment at 8:45 a.m. I questioned my intelligence the whole way there wondering why I had made the appointment so early. I arrived and found out that my appointment had been cancelled and My Daughter had forgotten to tell me that my dentist had called the day before. I fumed all the way home and had a plan for retaliation by the time I arrived. I made My Daughter get up out of bed, clean her room, clean her bathroom, and do her schoolwork before I would take her to her job at 1:15. I bet she remembers to tell me next time someone calls.
(1998)
Friday, November 7, 2008
When did this happen?
Keep in mind that the stories on this blog happened in 1998 through 2003. Yes, they really did happen pretty much like they are told. All our kids are grown now. Things are sure a lot quieter on the home front. As I look back on these years, I kinda miss the kids being teenagers. I don't miss the hoopla that accompanied the insanity and added to the stress!
What are you going through right now?
Want to share your story about your teenagers?
Do you have reptiles?
Leave a comment at the bottom of this post and I'll make a big deal of it.
What are you going through right now?
Want to share your story about your teenagers?
Do you have reptiles?
Leave a comment at the bottom of this post and I'll make a big deal of it.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Soup’s on
My daughter asked me to make some tomato soup for her. I boiled it over into the stove burner as I always do. Then, I overfilled the bowl, and put it on a metal tray for her to take to her room. I placed extra napkins on the tray so she wouldn’t drip it on our “used-to-be-white” carpet. She walked carefully out of the kitchen without spilling a drop.
About thirty seconds later I heard a loud “Ka-thump, clank-clang, UGH!” and I knew what had happened--the soup was a goner. As I rounded the corner, my daughter yelled, “Get my sweater out of it, and put it in the washer, quick!”
At least the girl was fine. Her $58 sweater and the carpet will never be the same. The walls and the top four steps were baptized in red-orange Campbell’s and the bowl was empty. Not much spilled on the tray or napkins though. My daughter was trying her best to get up the mess with a towel, but I knew this was a job for Super-mom. I sent her downstairs to boil over some more soup while I went to the basement (a.k.a. reptile farm) for the shop-vac. Of course it was all the way under the snake table, but after rearranging the basement, I got it out.
I took the machine upstairs to the tomato track and plugged it in. "Ahhh! Gag! What is that smell?"
My son and Wayne hadn’t washed out the canister when they used the shop-vac to clean up the mess Salina (Wayne’s dog) had made in the garage! I ran outside to empty it. I tried to rinse it with the hose, but the hose was frozen. I took the shop-vac to the bathroom, filled the tub with hot water and Pinesol, and flipped on the shop-vac. It started sucking up the pine water, and I thought all was going well until I heard an awful sound and saw the machine spewing soapy, stinky, water all over the walls! As I reached for the switch, I received the best facial I’ve ever had. It was better than Oil of Ol’ Lady lotion. Okay, so my idea sucked, literally.
My husband walked in while I was working on the Campbell’s clean up project, and asked what was going on.
“Soup and soap,” I stated matter-of-factly.
All in a day’s work.
Here’s to clean floors!
About thirty seconds later I heard a loud “Ka-thump, clank-clang, UGH!” and I knew what had happened--the soup was a goner. As I rounded the corner, my daughter yelled, “Get my sweater out of it, and put it in the washer, quick!”
At least the girl was fine. Her $58 sweater and the carpet will never be the same. The walls and the top four steps were baptized in red-orange Campbell’s and the bowl was empty. Not much spilled on the tray or napkins though. My daughter was trying her best to get up the mess with a towel, but I knew this was a job for Super-mom. I sent her downstairs to boil over some more soup while I went to the basement (a.k.a. reptile farm) for the shop-vac. Of course it was all the way under the snake table, but after rearranging the basement, I got it out.
I took the machine upstairs to the tomato track and plugged it in. "Ahhh! Gag! What is that smell?"
My son and Wayne hadn’t washed out the canister when they used the shop-vac to clean up the mess Salina (Wayne’s dog) had made in the garage! I ran outside to empty it. I tried to rinse it with the hose, but the hose was frozen. I took the shop-vac to the bathroom, filled the tub with hot water and Pinesol, and flipped on the shop-vac. It started sucking up the pine water, and I thought all was going well until I heard an awful sound and saw the machine spewing soapy, stinky, water all over the walls! As I reached for the switch, I received the best facial I’ve ever had. It was better than Oil of Ol’ Lady lotion. Okay, so my idea sucked, literally.
My husband walked in while I was working on the Campbell’s clean up project, and asked what was going on.
“Soup and soap,” I stated matter-of-factly.
All in a day’s work.
Here’s to clean floors!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Chuck is back
FROM: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
DATE: August 30, 1998
TO: Birthababe@nurserynews.com, BusyBee@BayTee.org, Cafemocha@coffeehouse.com, Cappuccino@coffeehouse.com, Kidsrus@Indyfarm.org, Mamadearest@abc.com, fickle@nanabooboo.org, lungeforth@takealeap.net, warrior1@battlefield.com, ballerina@dancerprancer.org MotherMayI@whynot.com, Suzysunflower@kansasgarden.com
SUBJECT: Chuck is back
Chuck came back with all his stuff today. He took the critters to Wayne’s house but Wayne is moving and couldn’t keep them. That’s why we have Wayne’s dog, remember? I went to the garage today to get something from my car. That’s when I noticed that another aquarium had been smuggled in. I went to inspect the contents and there was that damn alligator and a baby crocodile to boot! Chuck couldn’t find anyone to take them. Duh! No one wants an overgrown lizard with crusher jaws and teeth. I can’t believe this. I said “No alligator!”
“They are just babies,” my son and Chuck explained.
“I don’t care! You were babies once and now look; you’ve grown up and had reptiles!”
I didn’t sign up for this. Why didn’t anyone warn me about teenagers BEFORE I had kids? Warnings should be given in high school Sex Ed classes.
Okay. Let’s take an inventory: one 6-foot python, a dead three-legged dragon, a bucket of live grub worms, one alligator, one crocodile, one blind dog, Wayne’s German shepherd, two aquariums of fish, and a rat in a cage that doesn’t realize he’s on death row. Someone at work today asked me if I wanted a free kitten. I almost slapped her.
A neighbor called the number on Salina’s tag and demanded that Wayne come get his dog. So Wayne called my son, who called me, and asked me to retrieve the dog. Do I look like I work for Animal Control? I told him I was headed to a meeting and that the doggie round up would have to wait.
“But the lady is going to call the dog pound, mom. Please go get Salina”, he pleaded.
I gave in and drove to the lady’s house. The stupid dog refused to get in the truck. Instead she rolled over on her back, turned limp, and lay there like a 50-pound dishrag. I couldn’t pick her up, and I was mad as hell about being late for my meeting. I gave the nice lady my phone number, and called My Son to tell him I was not successful in the rescue effort. I got to my meeting only to find Mr. Codes holding the phone out to me. “It’s for you, Expressy--something about a dog loose in the neighborhood.”
Wayne and my son were out trying to retrieve the runaway, but couldn’t find the lady’s house or the dog. I left the meeting, met the boys at my house, lead them to the lady’s house, and drove off fuming a prayer on my way back to the meeting, “God, this is not funny! That idiot dog poops in my garage, whines and barks at night, breaks off her chain in the daytime, and I get to help bring her back? Excuse me, was this in the contract?”
I’m having a tee shirt printed that reads:
Codependent
Been there, done that
Gave away my best tee shirt!
The kids cleaned their rooms today. I have dishes in the cabinet that I had forgotten we owned. The cabinet is so full that the doors won’t close. However, Chuck seems to be getting over his lost love. He has a new girlfriend: Wayne’s sister. I hope she doesn’t have any animals she wants to loan us. I have Animal Control on my speed dial in case I get the notion to evict some tenants.
Just call me Wacho woman.
DATE: August 30, 1998
TO: Birthababe@nurserynews.com, BusyBee@BayTee.org, Cafemocha@coffeehouse.com, Cappuccino@coffeehouse.com, Kidsrus@Indyfarm.org, Mamadearest@abc.com, fickle@nanabooboo.org, lungeforth@takealeap.net, warrior1@battlefield.com, ballerina@dancerprancer.org MotherMayI@whynot.com, Suzysunflower@kansasgarden.com
SUBJECT: Chuck is back
Chuck came back with all his stuff today. He took the critters to Wayne’s house but Wayne is moving and couldn’t keep them. That’s why we have Wayne’s dog, remember? I went to the garage today to get something from my car. That’s when I noticed that another aquarium had been smuggled in. I went to inspect the contents and there was that damn alligator and a baby crocodile to boot! Chuck couldn’t find anyone to take them. Duh! No one wants an overgrown lizard with crusher jaws and teeth. I can’t believe this. I said “No alligator!”
“They are just babies,” my son and Chuck explained.
“I don’t care! You were babies once and now look; you’ve grown up and had reptiles!”
I didn’t sign up for this. Why didn’t anyone warn me about teenagers BEFORE I had kids? Warnings should be given in high school Sex Ed classes.
Okay. Let’s take an inventory: one 6-foot python, a dead three-legged dragon, a bucket of live grub worms, one alligator, one crocodile, one blind dog, Wayne’s German shepherd, two aquariums of fish, and a rat in a cage that doesn’t realize he’s on death row. Someone at work today asked me if I wanted a free kitten. I almost slapped her.
A neighbor called the number on Salina’s tag and demanded that Wayne come get his dog. So Wayne called my son, who called me, and asked me to retrieve the dog. Do I look like I work for Animal Control? I told him I was headed to a meeting and that the doggie round up would have to wait.
“But the lady is going to call the dog pound, mom. Please go get Salina”, he pleaded.
I gave in and drove to the lady’s house. The stupid dog refused to get in the truck. Instead she rolled over on her back, turned limp, and lay there like a 50-pound dishrag. I couldn’t pick her up, and I was mad as hell about being late for my meeting. I gave the nice lady my phone number, and called My Son to tell him I was not successful in the rescue effort. I got to my meeting only to find Mr. Codes holding the phone out to me. “It’s for you, Expressy--something about a dog loose in the neighborhood.”
Wayne and my son were out trying to retrieve the runaway, but couldn’t find the lady’s house or the dog. I left the meeting, met the boys at my house, lead them to the lady’s house, and drove off fuming a prayer on my way back to the meeting, “God, this is not funny! That idiot dog poops in my garage, whines and barks at night, breaks off her chain in the daytime, and I get to help bring her back? Excuse me, was this in the contract?”
I’m having a tee shirt printed that reads:
Codependent
Been there, done that
Gave away my best tee shirt!
The kids cleaned their rooms today. I have dishes in the cabinet that I had forgotten we owned. The cabinet is so full that the doors won’t close. However, Chuck seems to be getting over his lost love. He has a new girlfriend: Wayne’s sister. I hope she doesn’t have any animals she wants to loan us. I have Animal Control on my speed dial in case I get the notion to evict some tenants.
Just call me Wacho woman.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Demon Possessed?
FROM: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
DATE: August 27, 1998
TO: Birthababe@nurserynews.com, BusyBee@BayTee.org, Cafemocha@coffeehouse.com, Cappuccino@coffeehouse.com, Kidsrus@Indyfarm.org, Mamadearest@abc.com, MotherMayI@whynot.com, Suzysunflower@kansasgarden.com, fickle@nanabooboo.org, lungeforth@takealeap.net, warrior1@battlefield.com, ballerina@dancerprancer.org
SUBJECT: Demon Possessed?
I’ve got to buy a new vacuum cleaner. Ours tried to eat something in my son’s room and choked. That reminds me, you should see a python eat a rat. It’s rather interesting to watch. Who needs the discovery channel? We have a zoo in our basement.
Last night was a beautiful night and the lightening bugs (fireflies) were out in high numbers. I remembered giving fireflies to a frog we had in captivity when the kids were little. We got a kick out of watching his belly light up. I thought Stumpy would enjoy a delicacy so I fed him several of the glow bugs last night. When I went to his cage this morning he was stiff as a board. I thought he was hibernating again, but it was 90 degrees in his cage. I picked him up to see if I could feel him breathing, but the smell gave the final confirmation. A graveside service is being planned for this afternoon when the kids get home from school. They will not be happy to know that their mother is a lizard killer. I felt so badly about killing my son’s pet dragon. I cried all morning. Life is just too sad sometimes.
Chuck tends to forget to come home at night, and he doesn’t call to say he’s staying out. I think he sleeps wherever he lands when he’s had too much to drink. He really needs professional help, but counseling is not included in the room and board at our facility. I talk to him and try to help. He listens, but he doesn’t apply my advice. He says he’s demon possessed. I suppose it’s possible--I did find a chicken claw in his room. But he’s a nice kid, and I like having him around. He sits on the bar stool and talks to me while I cook dinner. He eats anything I put on the table and never complains! In fact, he ate every science project I had stored in Tupperware in the refrigerator, and he didn’t even get sick. He even ate the lasagna scraps I had mixed with canned dog food for Indi. I had a big bowl on the counter, and was attempting to make homemade craft paper. I mixed scraps of newspaper, Kleenex, notebook paper, Elmer’s glue and water, and set it aside to soften. I caught Chuck in time to stop him from heating it in the microwave. He thought it was oatmeal. The poor kid! I’d like to find a good home for him. Does anyone want a hungry boy with an alligator?
DATE: August 27, 1998
TO: Birthababe@nurserynews.com, BusyBee@BayTee.org, Cafemocha@coffeehouse.com, Cappuccino@coffeehouse.com, Kidsrus@Indyfarm.org, Mamadearest@abc.com, MotherMayI@whynot.com, Suzysunflower@kansasgarden.com, fickle@nanabooboo.org, lungeforth@takealeap.net, warrior1@battlefield.com, ballerina@dancerprancer.org
SUBJECT: Demon Possessed?
I’ve got to buy a new vacuum cleaner. Ours tried to eat something in my son’s room and choked. That reminds me, you should see a python eat a rat. It’s rather interesting to watch. Who needs the discovery channel? We have a zoo in our basement.
Last night was a beautiful night and the lightening bugs (fireflies) were out in high numbers. I remembered giving fireflies to a frog we had in captivity when the kids were little. We got a kick out of watching his belly light up. I thought Stumpy would enjoy a delicacy so I fed him several of the glow bugs last night. When I went to his cage this morning he was stiff as a board. I thought he was hibernating again, but it was 90 degrees in his cage. I picked him up to see if I could feel him breathing, but the smell gave the final confirmation. A graveside service is being planned for this afternoon when the kids get home from school. They will not be happy to know that their mother is a lizard killer. I felt so badly about killing my son’s pet dragon. I cried all morning. Life is just too sad sometimes.
Chuck tends to forget to come home at night, and he doesn’t call to say he’s staying out. I think he sleeps wherever he lands when he’s had too much to drink. He really needs professional help, but counseling is not included in the room and board at our facility. I talk to him and try to help. He listens, but he doesn’t apply my advice. He says he’s demon possessed. I suppose it’s possible--I did find a chicken claw in his room. But he’s a nice kid, and I like having him around. He sits on the bar stool and talks to me while I cook dinner. He eats anything I put on the table and never complains! In fact, he ate every science project I had stored in Tupperware in the refrigerator, and he didn’t even get sick. He even ate the lasagna scraps I had mixed with canned dog food for Indi. I had a big bowl on the counter, and was attempting to make homemade craft paper. I mixed scraps of newspaper, Kleenex, notebook paper, Elmer’s glue and water, and set it aside to soften. I caught Chuck in time to stop him from heating it in the microwave. He thought it was oatmeal. The poor kid! I’d like to find a good home for him. Does anyone want a hungry boy with an alligator?
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Woman with Reptiles in Basement and Teenagers in the House
Email Episodes goes behind the scenes to expose a loony, codependent mom named Expressy as she struggles to raise her wacky teenagers. As she opens her home and heart to a homeless human, a multitude of reptiles and other animals she begins to face mid-life crisis and realizes that she has lived her whole life trying to please others at the expense of her own happiness.
Expressy records her daily dilemmas in emails to a group of friends and family members who probably didn’t care to know what she was up to. Through her writing Expressy finds the courage to step out of her dysfunction and begin to truly love herself. You’ll laugh at her hilarious antics and be inspired by her bravery. A must-read (if you can get a copy) for anyone who wants to drop the façade and simply be human.
Expressy records her daily dilemmas in emails to a group of friends and family members who probably didn’t care to know what she was up to. Through her writing Expressy finds the courage to step out of her dysfunction and begin to truly love herself. You’ll laugh at her hilarious antics and be inspired by her bravery. A must-read (if you can get a copy) for anyone who wants to drop the façade and simply be human.
Email Episodes A Hilariously Honest Look at Life
Take a frustrated woman, give her a computer, and she will tell the world more than they ever wanted to know.
This is the simple, straightforward, storytelling concept developed by Yvonne Perry for her debut novel, Email Episodes. She documents everyday events that take place in the life of Expressy, a wife and mother whose life is falling apart.
What else can you do besides laugh or get a tattoo when: your kids are teenagers, your husband wants a divorce, you're having a mid-life crisis, you're grieving from relocating three times in less than five years, you're dealing with repressed issues from your childhood, and the church turns its back on you? Expressy walks out of her chaos and leaves the limitations imposed upon her to find a life that is full of love, joy, fun, and hope. You will laugh at her hilarious antics while being inspired by her courage. Take Expressy's hand and begin the comical journey toward wholeness.
This is the simple, straightforward, storytelling concept developed by Yvonne Perry for her debut novel, Email Episodes. She documents everyday events that take place in the life of Expressy, a wife and mother whose life is falling apart.
What else can you do besides laugh or get a tattoo when: your kids are teenagers, your husband wants a divorce, you're having a mid-life crisis, you're grieving from relocating three times in less than five years, you're dealing with repressed issues from your childhood, and the church turns its back on you? Expressy walks out of her chaos and leaves the limitations imposed upon her to find a life that is full of love, joy, fun, and hope. You will laugh at her hilarious antics while being inspired by her courage. Take Expressy's hand and begin the comical journey toward wholeness.
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