Expressy's Day with the Grandson

As you might have figured, my adult children are now fertile and have produced children. Well, my two-year-old grandson came to play at my house today. So far we have played in the sandbox, did face time with a tater head, rode a dump truck, watered the rocks, dunked a sandwich in soup to see if it could swim, and we colored with markers that were so dried up they got to be dipped in water to use, and we blew bubbles, and made a mess with Play-doh. That was this morning.

Lunch has now been cleaned from both ends of the boy; books have been read; eyes, nose, and ears have been located and identified on both the boy and Von-Von; Muno and Brobee were selected as bed buddies; and one talky-talky boy is singing the ABC song in his crib. It's supposed to be nap time. I hear a choo-choo. Not sure how that got into his room.

Oh, I forgot to mention that we tried on all the hats in the coat closet that I decided needed reorganizing while trying to wrangle the Play-doh bin from the top shelf. Said struggle caused an avalanche.

Did I mention that I pulled a bag of apples from the fridge and caused a jar of spaghetti sauce to fall out and break on the tile floor, cutting my foot in two places? The boy may have added a few choice words to his vocabulary as I tried to clean up the mess while bleeding on a paper towel I shoved into my flip-flop to keep from bleeding on the clean floor. So, mommy and daddy, if you hear the boy saying FU-CRANK-en-stein, you know where he learned that word.

Life is hilarious and it's only Monday!

How I met my second husband

The year was 2000 and I was going through a divorce from my husband of 22 years. I visited new parts of town on while working temp assignments. When I passed by a particular office park, it seemed to call to me. I wondered if there was a full-time job that had benefits waiting for me there.

Curiosity finally got to me and I took a turn down the road to the office park. A lot of businesses were there, but nothing I felt drawn to until I neared the back of the office park and saw a warehouse that was being used as a meeting place for a church.

“No, not church!” I whined when I saw it. “You know I hate organized religion, Lord. I’ve been hurt too many times by religious people, and I don’t want to go to any church, much less one in a warehouse.” I had a feeling I was not going to see any peace until I visited this place. So, I finally gave in.

I woke up one Sunday morning in April knowing that I had to go to that church in the office park, but I bargained with God that I would only go to hear the music then I’d leave before the preaching began. I called to see what time the services started and was told 10:00 a.m. When I got there at 9:55 everyone was milling about, and some were leaving. I thought I was off the hook and was about to leave when I discovered that they were only taking a break. The second half was about to begin—you guessed it—the preaching. I had not set my clock back for Daylight Saving Time and I missed the music. I wanted to bolt, but a nice woman approached me and asked me to sit with her, so I complied.

For someone who didn’t want to get back in church I sure surprised myself when I went to a prayer meeting at a lady’s house the following Saturday night. There was a guy there named Randy that I absolutely could not keep my eyes off of. This sounds dumb even saying it, but I thought we’re supposed to be together. I was on the rebound and too vulnerable for a relationship. I was not over the pain of my first marriage, and I didn’t want to date.

I went to the church service again the following week. Randy sat behind me that morning. I heard that he was leading a prayer group on Friday night. I decided to attend.

Randy asked me out after the meeting Friday night, and I heard the word “yes” jump out of my mouth before I knew I wanted to say it. This is a mystery, but I felt like I knew this man from somewhere.

Randy and I took a ride to the lake after dinner, and as we sat on the bench I got this premonition that I was going to marry him. Husband #2 had been praying for a wife and even saw me in a dream. I  married him ten weeks after we met. I call that taking a giant, risk-taking, leap of faith...at least on his part!

Fax it Again, Sam

Someone at our Florida office was having trouble with her fax machine. She called our office and asked me to send her a test fax. Here is the fax I sent her.

This is a test of the emergency “does my fax work?” system.

This is ONLY a test.

Do not evacuate the building.

If this had been a real emergency you’d be dead by now.

Testing…. Testing…. 1 2 3

Test. Test.

Can you hear me now?!

That reminds me of another funny story. One day a customer called and asked us to fax another copy of the document we just sent her. We asked if the copy didn’t come through or if it wasn’t readable and she said, “Oh, yes, it was clear, but I need another copy and I don’t want to walk across the room to the copier!”

“Oh, Kay!”

Singing in the Cube Farm

The coworker sitting across from me must have been a jukebox in another life. He hums, whistles, and sings non-stop. His tunes range from "Danny Boy" to "Can’t You See What That Woman’s Been Doing to Me." I hear enough of that song at home. No matter how many people have complained about the distraction, our one-man-Muzak will not stop. “Please, Mister, PLEASE don’t play B17!” we plead, but the broken record keeps going, and going, and going.

A few weeks ago I decided that if I couldn’t beat him, I’d join him. Except for when he chooses Italian opera selections or Christmas songs in August, I sing, hum, or whistle along with him. Other coworkers have joined our choir and we have quite a background harmony section. We’re taking requests. You may dial us at 800- HUM-DING.

Mid-life Crisis? Which One?

I had a spiritual reading when I was on vacation. The psychic said that I would be on this planet until I was over one hundred years old. Great! That means the midlife crisis I had when I turned forty was all in vain even though I do have a tattoo and divorce papers to document the non-occasion, and this means I can justify another midlife crisis in about ten years. I greatly appreciate the insight this information brings. As I see it, I have another sixty years to lose the rest of the twenty-five pounds I’m trying to shed. And if you’re driving behind me, just chill out or go around me. I’ve got time to spare and I’m going to slow down and enjoy it.

Java Takes Herself for a Walk

The animal hospital called me at work to say that they had found our chocolate lab, Java, wandering around outside the clinic. I was puzzled as to how she got out of her pen AND the fenced-in backyard. I mentioned to the nurse that Java’s ears had been bothering her, and that perhaps she had taken herself to the doctor for a checkup. They agreed to check her ears while she waited until I could get home from work to pick her up. In the meanwhile Frankie, whom I didn’t know was home, realized Java had left the gate open when he was cutting grass. He went into the house to get his car keys and was about to drive around the block searching for her when he noticed the answering machine had a message. It was the vet saying that Java was ready for pickup. Perfect timing.

Hey, by the way, the murals we all painted on the walls of our garage are groovy. Thanks to everyone who helped. All our neighbors joined us impromptu that evening when curiosity got them best of them. Each person who came by to investigate was required to at least sign his or her name on a concrete block. It was a memorable “block” party. It’s been three weeks and we still have strangers coming to our door asking to see the garage they heard about!

OCD and Religion

From 2002, we still have memories and stories to share:

Hey you, Emailians,

I got an email today that gave the findings of a study that had been done regarding religion and obsessive-compulsive disorder. Since many of you are the ones I’ve gone to church with all these years, we may need to be on the lookout for these symptoms. The gist of the study is this:

While researchers have not proven that religious devotion early in life causes Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD), the finding adds weight to the theory that a strict religious upbringing may make people more prone to the psychological problem. The study found that religious people with a strict upbringing are more likely to show symptoms of OCD because they may be anxious about right and wrong, black or white. For instance, sufferers often become obsessed with the notion that they are sinful or contaminated with germs, leading to hour upon hour of washing. Don’t laugh, I’m reminded of woman I knew who changed her bed sheets, shaved her legs, and took 2 baths every day! The study says that OCD can become so bad that it prevents people from leading a normal life. No kidding? It took this woman until 1:00 to get dressed for the day. I shouldn’t condemn her. I’m sitting here in my pajamas.

The study also said that genes, head injuries (does brain-washing count?), and emotional trauma (first marriages, children, traffic jams, etc.) have all been implicated in cases of OCD - understandably so. If you begin to clean house, wash your hands, or brush your hair more than usual, you may want to have your head examined. As for me, I quit religion, and as you can tell, I’m normal again.

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DATE: June 26, 2002 10:59 AM
SUBJECT: RE: COD and Religion

Re: Religion. Trauma. isn’t that one in the same? And OCD? Well, I've never been a religious person, but I have had quite a few emotionally traumatic events in my life. I'd hate to think I was doomed to spending my days repeatedly washing my hands, counting floor tiles, or changing my underwear. It hasn't happened so far, but I was a compulsive drug user for quite a few years. Does that count? I managed to find help for that, so I guess the last compulsive area of my life is relationships. I guess for now I will just continue to blame the emotionally traumatic events in my life for it. It's better than being labeled crazy, right????


FROM: Expressy@coffeehouse.com
DATE: June 26, 2002 11:08 AM
TO: Kurlikew@Bcuz.net
SUBJECT: RE: COD and Religion

I’ve been to Crazy. Crazy is a good place to be. In fact, I have real estate and stock investments there.

Throwing Pottery with the Hippies

Frankie and I drove to Uncle Dane’s in Missouri this past weekend. Uncle Dane is not a relative, and I still don’t know his last name, but he is a long time friend of Frankie’s. Uncle Dane is an artist who lives on 40 acres in the beautiful and serene Ozark Mountains. I felt the Spirit’s love when I first set foot on his property. I met a lot of new people there. Most of them are hippies. Uncle Dane has a studio in his basement with several pottery wheels, and lots of clay. I glued myself to the stool for two days and enjoyed spinning the fresh earth between my fingers. The pieces I worked will have to dry before they can be fired so I had to leave them for now. I met other rock hounds. We went on walks and gathered some of the most unusual and colorful stones for our collections. We nearly got arrested for trespassing when we were caught on someone else’s property. The owner said we should have known that we were on his property by the purple paint that was sprayed on the trees when we entered. Oh, that’s a universal sign, for sure. He had the best rocks too! The men who were in our group calmed the man down, and after listening to him rant for about 45 minutes regarding hippies and derelicts, he let us go. He doesn’t know we stole his rocks! Later that night everyone pulled out an instrument and played 60’s and 70’s Rock and Roll songs until the morning light topped the trees.

Garage Party

This garage party happened on the fourth of July 2002, but our garage could use a cleaning. If you are so inclined, come on over.
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This is probably going to sound like a strange thing to ask of you, but you probably expect it of Frankie and me by now. We want to decorate the inside of our garage in a funky and eclectic manner to express our artistic and creative abilities. After discussing the cost and surveying the amount of work this will require we have decided to invite our friends and family to participate.

So, on Thursday, July 4th, we want you to bring your paints, paintbrushes, stencils, or anything you choose to decorate the walls of our garage. Each person may select a section(s) to paint and express their wildest ideas. We plan to paint the ceiling and floor too, perhaps a cloud scene, angels, rockets, stars, sun, moon, or outer space on the ceiling and a checkerboard, grass, insects, snakes, etc. on the floor! Be thinking about what you want to create. IDEAS: cartoon characters, dragons, fairies, abstract art, geometric shapes, jungle animals, underwater seascapes, beach scenes, peoples faces, or trompe l’oeil (murals that looks like you can walk into the scene), you name it. You can even paint yourself! A self-portrait, that is!

We’ll get the garage swept cleaned, and everything moved out of the way so you can begin designing immediately upon arrival. We’ll work on it all day so come when you get ready, stay as long as you want. We’ll provide the food and drinks (things that come in sixes are great). Bring a friend, bring snacks, bring paint, but mainly bring your unique creativity. This is going to be a ton of fun! Please let me know you are coming.

Tired Tiles

From the year 2002...

I am in need of massage and physical therapy this morning! Husband #2 decided at 8:00 p.m. last Thursday evening to see what he could do to stop the squeaking in the kitchen floor. After about 2-dozen screws, it still squeaked so he pulled up a portion of the vinyl flooring to see where the floor joist was located. Two hours later the entire kitchen floor was bared to the sub-flooring and was sporting a nice assortment of screws, still squeaking. The vinyl needed replacing but I hadn't planned on doing it this weekend since it was my daughter-in-law's birthday. I had promised to give her a party and to watch the baby on Sunday afternoon. After going under the house and finally getting the squeaking stopped, we installed 12-inch square stick-on tiles that had to be sized and cut to fit the corners around the door frames and cabinets. When the guests arrived I was on my way to pick up a cake that I had not ordered, hoping that Food Lion would have a chocolate one. The party was successful in spite of my lack of planning and organization.

After everyone left, Frankie and I decided to finish the few tiles we had left to install. Our 12-month-old grandson was toddling about, and in to everything that was not screwed down (which didn’t leave a lot!) Sammy was curious and wanted to help. After taking the marker, then the scissors from him, Frankie gave him a scrap of tile to keep him busy. That little guy managed to get the paper backing off, stick it on the floor and come back for another piece! He is barely walking and he's already laying tile! I safely confined him to his high chair and gave him a box of Cheerios, while we finished.

The floor looks nice and it doesn’t squeak, but this morning I am so stove-up (southern for stiff) I could heat the house. I almost called in to work to request a holiday. Then I thought better of it. If I stayed home, I'd end up painting and installing the quarter-round molding. I decided to go to work so I could rest!