Tag Archives: daughter

Fanfares on Friday

20 Mar
My daughter at ten. Frame for sale.

My daughter at ten. Frame for sale.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Visit www.etsy.com/shop/aFrameJob

Ah yes. Three in four days. I really have to do something about my awful photos!

Dear daughter:

I needs help with pictures.

Love,

Mom

She and the grand visited for dinner tonight! Such a joy. We’re hanging out a couple of days next week. Oh yeah! Can’t wait.

 

 

 

Today’s Weirdness

7 Mar

In a stunning turn of events Tuesday, I am back on solid food.

My BMI is borderline in qualifying for bariatric surgery. I cannot lose too much weight before being checked into the hospital. I was losing too much on liquids.

This is really weird. I’ve struggled fifty plus years with my weight and find myself needing to maintain it, not lose it. Now that is an irony.

I hope this works. I so hope my diabetes resolves.I keep repeating myself.

Of course, my age and the length of time I’ve been diabetic are not in my favor, but that chance, that small chance is enough. I have much to live for. After all I haven’t finished Season 2 of House of Cards! And Game of Thrones is coming up in April. And there are stories to write and hats to knit and gardens to tend.

And there is that first granddaughter coming up in June. So far my daughter hasn’t committed to a name for this beautiful child. So, I just keep referring to her as ‘Zoe’.

Wednesday, I bought Zoe’s first hat. My closet is full of hats and I can’t wait to play dress-up with her.

And it was a very productive day. Resume updated. Check. Unemployment filed. Check. Resume dropped at clinic looking for receptionist. Check. Banking done. Check. Stop at Sephora inside Penney’s to pick up exhausted facial products. Check. (New Zoe outfit too!) RX filled and picked up. Check.

And so Thursday and today we continue the reorganization of Zach’s room. Really need to finish this by Sunday, with two weeks of moderate lifting and recovery coming up!

____

If you need to know how compromised our society and government is, look no further than the Oversight Committee meeting this wee, chaired by Republican Congressman Darrell Issa and including ranking member, Democrat Congressman Elijah Cummings.

Issa closed the proceedings and cut Cummings microphone.  Cummings was not happy. Personally, I would have pitched a bitch fit over that one.

Issa’s action was appalling on so many levels.

And now, apparently, he has given a back-handed apology. I don’t think it’s an apology if you then claim the person you are apologizing to ‘staged’ the confrontation.

Really? How would Cummings know before-hand you were gonna shut him down?

Rude, presumptuous, disrespectful behavior. It is an epidemic. And this ‘my way, or the highway’ attitude is beyond unhelpful.

I wish someone would explain to me why anyone would be so dedicated to an ideology, so inclined to hear only one side of an issue, so reticent to research the agenda of those with the money behind the mouths, so convinced they are ‘right’, that they are willing to sacrifice the poor, the elderly, and the sick.

You hate Obamacare. So construct a solution to this health-business crisis in America. And never doubt, it is business in America, not care.

You hate the debt. Then stop waging war and making the 1% richer. Stop giving the wealthy a tax-free ride. They should pay more, they make more and they don’t seem inclined to voluntarily help those who help them.  Stop allowing corporations to dictate legislation. Stop allowing U.S. business to sell in the U.S. if they move their jobs overseas.

You want jobs? Two thoughts: clean energy and infrastructure. Stop giving your tax dollars to the oil and natural gas industry and demand they spend some of the billions of dollars of profit they see each year on clean energy. They will still make money.

You think abortion is immoral. Then don’t get one.

You want to reverse Roe v. Wade? Get over it.  You send young people to war to die. Isn’t that rather hypocritical?

And stop voting for those who are targeting your emotions. Vote with your head.

Sanctimonious moralists!

Here’s the rub. Some of those sanctimonious moralists are friends.

And so I will keep repeating my political mantra: I will defend your rights. Will you defend mine?

Perhaps one day, those friends will understand.

Pinterest Project #11, Milk, and Snakes

13 Nov

My daughter is my bestest friend. She’s gone so far as to agree when the time comes and my mental faculties desert me, she’ll pull the trigger and put me out of her misery. Ain’t she sweet?

We actually hang out together. Saturday we spent the afternoon at Holiday House. It’s a huge market hosted by the Junior League. We wandered through the crowds, spent a little money, checked all the marvelous handmade offerings, and tasted the dips and soups and margarita mixes. That last one was way cool.

I blame my inner ear problem for the stumbling gait I developed as we left the convention center. That pesky inner ear has gathered fluid. And that’s my story, I’m sticking to it.

Then we shared a meal. Really. We shared a sandwich and some cheese dip.

Sunday she came over for Craft Day. She is the designer for today’s Pinterest inspired project. So kudos to Alexis (I call her by her middle name…Falon) Sanghera for Project #11, our inspirational Christmas tree. Find the simple instructions here.

O Christmas Tree

This morning I left the house to buy more green paint and a foot for my sewing machine. I lost the one I removed to make buttonholes. I seem to have a penchant for misplacing things. It’s somewhere in there. I know it.

That foot might have joined the screwdrivers, pins, wrenches, various brushes, pieces to my Dremel, my Xacto knife….

Milk was up this morning. I guess the cows have gone on strike.

Have you ever had milk, full cream, brought in fresh off the cow? I think one of my first memories is of my grandfather bringing a galvanized bucket of milk into the dining room of their old farm house. He passed me in my high chair. My grandmother stopped him and dipped a small glass just for me. Mmmmm. He made sausage and grew cotton.

The house was a rock house. It still stands. There was a front stoop with steps on both sides leading to the front door. I remember a root cellar and the weird little knob on the door. It was small and oval and metal and just about the right size for a kid hand.

I remember being sent to the cotton fields with a mason jar of water for Grandpa. I would run across the wooden bridge as though chased by demons. I was terrified and convinced snakes lived in great numbers under that bridge on the banks of the creek.

I hate snakes. I hate looking at them at the zoo. They may be behind glass, but they’re still snakes. Freud might have diagnosed me with an overwhelming case of penis envy.

<big sigh>

We have Copperheads here. I ran over one with the lawn mower about 13 summers ago. When I saw it, I ran like hell from the barn to the house, screaming all the way. Once I regained my breath I realized there was no one to deal with it but me.

I was in no hurry, but the old lawnmower was running.

My skin crawled all the way back to the barn. Of course the snake was pretty much shredded, but I watched closely for some time. If that puppy moved I was headed to the house again.

It didn’t move.

Bob found one shortly after he moved here. He wanted to play with it. I stood on the porch repeatedly demanding he kill it. It got away. I didn’t go to that side of the house for six months or so.

I hate snakes.

Did I tell you I hate snakes?

I have learned to let King snakes go. They kill Copperheads. It only took 40-something years.

I learned to eat turnip greens in less time.

And, no, I will never eat snake.

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