KIDS MOVIES ARE NOT JUST FOR KIDS

 I LOVE watching kid's movies.  Movies like "Despicable Me",  "Horton Hears a Who", "Soul" and of course the whole series of "Toy Story".   These are great movies that really are not fully appreciated by anyone under the age of 40.  The humor and comedic antics of the characters are missed by the young viewer while someone like me is rolling on the floor laughing.

Yesterday afternoon I drove down to the Ft. Lauderdale area to spend the late afternoon and evening with my 3 grandkids who live down that way.  My son Kent was working his second job as a DJ, (teaching just doesn't pay the bills when you are divorced and have 3 kids), so he had asked me to come down to spend the evening with the three hyenas. (Not my name for them . . . their parents fondly started calling them that when the oldest was about 6 and the twins were 3.)

Anyway . . . I left here around 3 in the afternoon and had a blast with them.  I gave them the choice of what to do and where to go and the unanimous decision was "Sky Zone", a local, indoor trampoline park.  Because it was late afternoon on a Saturday the place was mobbed but that did not deter these 3 kids from jumping their brains out for two full hours.  The oldest took off to play "trampoline dodge ball" which any 11 year old boy would love while the 7 year old twins bounced themselves silly in various areas of the place.  We had semi cold pizza for dinner washed down with blue icy drinks. How they didn't throw up any of that while bouncing is beyond me but we made it back home by 8 PM sweaty and tired.  (I was tired from following the twins around as per their requests. "Come watch ME grandma!")

By the time we got back to their home it was time for showers and some R&R before bed. (But not before a couple of Halloween Oreo cookies that I had brought for dessert.)  Once out of the shower Grey decided she would brush her teeth and lie in bed watching her iPad for a few minutes before falling asleep. (What a smart girl!)  The boys decided they wanted to watch a little bit of TV. Because Wynn had the clicker in his hand he got to choose what to watch.  (Wonder of wonders that his older brother agreed to that!) Wynn decided to watch the Dr. Seuss movie, "The Lorax".  I had never seen this particular film so I was all in !

The movie is HYSTERICAL !!!!!  There I was sitting between the 2 boys laughing my fool head off while they never cracked a smile.  They had seen the movie several times before, or as Smith put it, "Wynn, you ALWAYS want to watch that!". I guess they must enjoy the movie to watch it over and over but I found it hilarious !  We only got to watch about a half hour before it was time for Wynn to go to bed.  After tucking him in I returned to the living room expecting my OLD grandson to want to watch something different but he asked if I wanted to watch more of the movie if we kept the sound low.  Naturally I agreed and then the genius grandson put on the captions feature so I could actually read the dialogue.  That was even better because I didn't miss a word.  

KID movies always have two opposing main characters . . . the good and the bad.  They are usually fun to watch but it's the "side kicks" that are the best!  This movie had a group of small, fuzzy bears with the addition, (as always) of one very fat, large bear who was the comic.  Added to that there were the singing gold fish.  Who comes up with this stuff ????   If you watch very carefully there is also some animal in the background with the best facial expressions ever. In this case it was a donkey who reminded me very much of the Eddie Murphy character donkey in the movie "Shrek". 

I really wanted to continue watching after Smith went to bed but I knew my laughing might wake up the kids.  I now have another KID movie to add to my list of "must watch" shows when The Man is watching Football or Hockey.   Lucky Me !!!!

FOCUS FACTOR

If you watch any television at all these days I am sure you have seen the commercials for pills that are supposed to enhance your memory. Of course if you don't write down the names of these medications while you are watching the commercial you can't order them because, if you're anything like me, you can't remember their name three seconds after the commercial has ended.   

I am really starting to think I may need some pharmaceutical to help me with my memory.  I will think of something I want to do and in less than two seconds it is gone from my head never to be found again.  I try the old trick of returning to the last place that I was with hopes that something there will jog my memory but I often can't remember where the last place I was is.  I could spend an entire day wandering from room to room just trying to remember why I was there.  

This is seriously becoming a problem.  Just today I thought of something I needed to do on my computer. I  went into the bedroom to get my lap top only to realize I had no idea where my lap top was.  For the next half hour I searched the house until I found the computer on top of the washing machine. (How it got THERE is a mystery to me.) Once I found the computer I needed my glasses but those have been missing for the past 3 days.  I had them on Monday when I went to pick up dinner for The Man and myself. (It's a good thing my new car has a GPS in it because I forgot to bring my phone with me and couldn't find the new BBQ place.) I remember wiping off my glasses while waiting for my order at the walk up window because they had fogged up when I got out of the car.  That's the last time I remember having them.  I would assume I put them back on my face to drive home but they are NO WHERE to be found.  (My smart ass daughter suggested I go look in a mirror because they could be on top of my head or on my face. She was joking of course but deep down we both knew it was a possibility.)

Today I drove down to a store to buy a loaf of Italian bread. I hadn't been to this particular grocery in over a year so wasn't familiar with the layout of the parking lot.  I found a parking spot, parked my car and went in to do my shopping.  When I came out I had no idea where I had parked. I knew it was in a "down" row near the end of the lot but wasn't sure exactly where. Because I live in Florida my new white Honda just blended in with all the three thousand other white SUV's in the lot.  (Down here if you don't drive a Bentley or a Maserati chances are you own a white SUV) Twice this week I have walked up to a white SUV thinking it was mine. Fortunately I DO remember my license plate number so I realize my mistake before I am arrested for car theft.  The only way I remember my plate number is because several years ago when I got these plates I made a conscious effort to come up with way to never forget it. Are you ready for this . . .  ?  The first letter is the second letter of my first born child's first name. The next two midgets are the last two numbers of the year that child was born.  (Simple right?). The last three letters on the plate are JGS. In my mind this spells "jugs" of which I have two rather large saggy, baggy ones. (Father time has not been kind to my body.  Those boobs that I prayed for as a teenager are two large annoying globs of fat that get in the way of everything.).  Bottom line to this is it didn't take me too long to find my car.  

My dad used to worry about not remembering things and I would tell him it was because he had all those years worth of memories stuffed in his brain so it just takes a while for him to find the memory he is looking for.  Now that it is ME who can't remember "s--t" I think that explanation is a crock of "s--t". Instead I know I am loosing what little mind I have . 

I think the next time I see one of those stupid commercials for memory loss I will write down the name and look into ordering some. Of course that will only happen if I remember to get a pencil and paper before I sit down. 

SLICE AND DICE

 Any other of my senior friends out there dealing with the bi-monthly visits to the dermatologist ?  

Just like triple chins, wrinkles the size of the Grand Canyon, body parts that have given in to the pull of gravity and sag well below where they belong and aches and pains in joints you never knew I had one of the other joys of growing older is the constant stream of visits to the doctor.  I visit doctors almost as often as I pee.  And that is A LOT !!!   (Maybe I need to get a job or some more friends to keep myself busy?) 

Having grown up in the "pre-sun screen" era I spent my entire childhood outside

.  It was the age when mother's did not want their kids in the house under their feet.  And if for some strange reason my mom didn't push me out the door I was in for a day of "helping" her inside.  I learned early on to get my butt outside ASAP or a dust cloth or vacuum was thrust into my idle hands.  (I didn't get an allowance for every little "chore" I did.  I just got to live another day without my mom yelling at me.)  

As a result of all this out door time with no UV protection, (Did you ever hear of UV when you were a kid?) I always had a nice tan going on.  Then when I was a teenager and realized how "good" having a tan looked I would spend days at the beach cooking myself to a golden brown.  Only problem was I NEVER got tan, I just burned, peeled and burned again.  But I looked GOOD !!  Blue eyes, blonde hair and a sun burn was the key to looking "cool".  Or so I thought.

Sixty years later I am paying the price for all that "looking good".  My bank account is directly linked to my dermatologist's Mercedes dealer.  (I think he would be driving a Honda if it wasn't for me.) Every 3 months I have a standing appointment to get the "once over" from good old Doctor Fayne.  He is an interesting character, as most dermatologists are. 

(Over the years I have found that different types of doctors have very different personalities. Surgeons are usually very socially awkward and have little to no bedside manner.  GP's are chatty and personable and dermatologists are just plain weird. I guess I'd be strange too if I spent my days looking at warts.  We won't even get into the personalities of proctologists. They're all just a "pain in the ass".)

I have been seeing Doctor Fayne for over 20 years now and he has burned and sliced many a pre-cancerous spot off my body.  But now it seems I am entering the true "senior' years of my life where the little spots are morphing into larger more complicated entities.  I am beginning to realize that my body is ALIVE and like some alien creature from outer space, it is growing spores that are trying to erupt into living things that will devour my body if I'm not paying attention.  When I die my children will no longer be my soul beneficiary's. In fact they will be lucky to get twenty cents each because the bulk of their inheritance is going to my dermatologist. 

Yesterday was a banner day for good old Doc F AND his partner Doctor Cohen.  I had never met Dr, Cohen but yesterday I had the "pleasure" of getting sliced and diced by this nice man.  

Backing up to this past April . .  . before we left for Michigan I saw Dr. Fayne who discovered a small nasty thing growing under my chin.  He cut it off, slapped a band aid on it and sent me on my way while he sent the "thing" off to the lab.  The "thing" was cancerous, (nothing big, just the regular every day skin cancer.) so Dr. F wanted me to see a dermatologist in MI to follow up and make sure he had cut enough off.  MI doctor needed to slice and dice a little more and then wanted me to return in a couple of months to check it out.  I returned to the Michigan doc just before returning to Florida and he was pleased with how my chin looked.  BUT . . .    for what ever reason he decided to check my neck and back where he found something he didn't like.  Michigan doctor, Johnathan, cut something off my back and sent me back to Florida while the thing was sent to the MI lab.  As The Man and I were driving back to Florida I received a phone call from Johnathan's office saying the thing was cancerous so I should see my Florida dermatologist when I got home.  (The joys of having 2 homes and 2 sets of doctors.)

Yesterday was my appointment to see Doctor Fayne.  He checked the thing on my back, read the report from Michigan and immediately called in his associate who does all the "bigger" slicing and dicing.  They were going to set me up with a half hour appointment when Dr. Cohen said he just had a cancelation and could do the procedure right then. I was all for that so I didn't have to return another day. Off we went to a different part of the building where I got to take a nap on my tummy while I got carved up like your Thanksgiving turkey.

I now have two layers of stitches in my back with a honking big "pressure bandage" over them.  The bandage comes off this afternoon, the stitches come out in 12 days and Doctor Cohen AND Doctor Fayne get to book a three week vacation in Aruba for them and their families thanks to the spot on my back. 

WHO'S IN CHARGE ????

 Apparently I am not in charge of anything these days.  I like to THINK I am in charge of everything but God has a way of slapping me up side my head to remind me I am just a blip on His radar and I need to stop thinking about myself. 

I tend to do that a lot ! Think about myself . . . like I am the one and only person on this planet who has an ounce of intelligence so everyone needs to stop and listen to me. God laughs at me all the time.  And He shakes his head and then He slaps me !  

If you aren't familiar with "God Slaps" let me enlighten you.  You wake up in the morning thinking the world revolves around you.  You don't feel well, your body aches, you are stressed out, you don't think you can go on with your life as it is.  Changes need to be made . . . You need to take a stand and stop letting everyone around you dictate your life.  You're sick of being a care giver for others.  When was the last time anyone took care of you?  BOOOOO  HOOOOOO HOOOOOOO !!     You get up and decide you are probably going to die of a heart attack in the very near future and this brings you a great sense of relief.  

And then comes the SLAP !!!!!   God whispers in your ear that you are not the one and only person on His Earth that has "problems".  In fact, in the general scheme of things, the stuff that is bothering you is pretty insignificant and petty. And if you really did drop dead it really would not change the face of the earth. People might miss you BUT your passing would not change one single thing.  So basically, "Get Over Yourself !"    SLAP !!!!    

And then the phone rings . . .  In the past 24 hours I have received 2 phone calls from friends telling me of things that have happened to them. They lost someone they love.  They just received a diagnosis of cancer.  

And I am upset over a wet  car and not feeling well.   SLAP !!!  SLAP !!! 

I hear God saying, "Hey Catherine, did you get my message yet?"  

Ever since our return from Michigan I have been in a foul mood.  Before we left up there I asked God to just get me back to Florida and my family and my doctors and I would be good.  God listened, as He always does, and got me back here in one piece.  Since my return I have found endless things to annoy and upset me.  The car, the garden, the house, The Man. The list is endless. And with each passing day I have allowed theses annoyances to overwhelm me and consume my mind and spirit.  I am convinced I am dying from heart failure.  My liver and kidneys are failing and my mind is oozing it's way toward dementia.  (None of these are true but this is just how my mind works.).  I am afraid of all of the above and so each day I obsess over every little ache and pain.  (God forbid I would eat healthier or exercise to do something to avoid all of the above. I'd rather just obsess.) 

After speaking to my friend Theresa last night and hearing all that is happening in her life I realized I had NOTHING to be stressed about.  Then when I woke up this morning I had an epiphany that if I did drop dead from a heart attack that might actually be a good thing.  I wouldn't have to take care of anyone else anymore and all the little things that are annoying me would no longer be of my concern.  In simple terms I could and should   " LET GO.  LET GOD " .  

I was doing pretty well with this game plan until I needed to get my butt out the door to do some running around with The Man.  It was at that point that I once again slid back into "poor me" mode.  Boo Hoo !  "I have to do everything, I have to remember everything, I have to . . . "  blah blah blah . . .    The Man and I ran around getting all the little crap done and I was just sinking lower and lower in the swamp of my mind when the phone rang.  It was one of The Man's brother's saying his cancer was back and he didn't know if he was going to fight it any more.  SLAP !!!  SLAP !!!! SLAP !!!!!   

God's voice in my ear once again reminding me that a little ache or pain is NOTHING !!! A leak and some mold in my car is NOTHING !!  The blessing of having grand kids that want me to babysit is EVERYTHING  !!!!  I have a kind and caring man in my life who keeps me company and provides me with much joy and all I can do is complain about him when I should be thanking God every day to be blessed with someone like him 

How long will all this wisdom stay with me ??   Probably not past dinner tonight but for the time being I guess I am pretty blessed to not be "In Charge".  If I can just remember to hand all my stupid worries up to God and let Him be in charge life can be pretty awesome.  

RED BOOK

 I used to have a "Little Red Book"  which was my version of "The Little Black Book" that is the keeper of secret names and numbers.   I bought a RED book so I would be able to find it easier. (I tend to put things down in obscure places so I figured red would be easier to spot than black.) I have had my little red book for many many years now and it has served me well. It contains all my "passwords" that I have accumulated over the years. These passwords change on a regular basis because I will be somewhere and need to log into some account but can't remember the password. When that happens my only resort is to change my password, which I will then write on a scrap of paper with hopes of adding the new password to the LRB when I get home.  Nine times out of ten I loose the scrap of paper and have to change the damn word again when I get home.  I usually just white-out the old words and write over them to save space. 

It's a good thing I have done this because the size of my "little" red book has been changing for the past several years.  To be precise, my LRB has been expanding for the past 5 years,  7 months,  one week and however many days.  That is the exact amount of time that The Man has been in my life. 

(This morning I woke up at 3 AM and could NOT get back to sleep no matter what I tried.  I finally gave up to go sit in the living room playing solitaire on my i Pad until I could get my brain to shut the hell up. Or so I though.  I crawled back into bed around 5 AM only to be hit with a panic attack a half hour later.  I was just drifting toward sleep when it happened so I sat up trying to calm myself back down or hoping for a quick and painless death.  Neither happened so I got up again and headed for control central where I could attend my trusty therapy session called "blogging". ) 

Back to the "Little Red Book" . . .  And the reason for my most recent panic attack.  THE MAN . . .   Need I say any more ?  Ever since this man had come into my life I have been increasingly weighed down both mentally and physically.  I have allowed The Man to dump his shit on me so it is no ones fault but my own. I'm such a freaking goodie two shoes that I want to "help" everyone in my life.  It's who I am, I can't seem to change so I can't blame The Man for being who he is . . . a typical man . . .

When ever we leave the house The Man hands me his phone, glasses and any paperwork that may be required for where ever we are going.  (Usually the only time we leave the house is to go to doctor appointments so I get to be keeper of the medical records that we always carry with us._ If I'm really lucky I will also get to carry the extension cords, chargers and batteries, which weigh a ton, for his portable concentrator.)  I carry a back pack for just such occasions.  I feel like a sherpa heading into the Himalayan Mountains.  Except my pack is heavier. 

But these aren't the only things I carry. Sometime way back at the beginning of this relationship I had the bright idea that I should add The Man's passwords to my LRB.  It came about innocently enough . . .  or did it ???  I look back now and see the masterful maneuvering of the male mind.  First it was that The Man couldn't see the screen of his tablet as well as he could see the screen of MY computer so naturally I started logging into his accounts for him on my computer. Because this became a regular occurrence I started putting his passwords into my little red book. (The man has his version of the LRB but because it is a random mess of loose papers most of the time he can't find it.)  

As the years have progressed my LRB has doubled in size. No problem . . . until The Man needs something on the computer and I don't have the password.  THAT is what happened this weekend.  

The Man LOVES hockey especially the Detroit Red Wings.  When he comes to Florida for the winter WE research the best way to get the majority of hockey games streamed to my TV.  Every year this changes . . . In the beginning we used to Center Ice.  Then it was the NHL Network. Last year he had to subscribe to NHLTV.  Each and every one of these requires an account which needs a password.  You Know Who gets to keep track of all the freaking passwords.  The "H" page in my LRB is now twelve inches thick because of all the layers of white out for the various hockey subscriptions.  

NONE of these annual searches for hockey is easy. We start with the previous year's account for hockey streaming.  Inevitably that will no longer be the best way to watch ALL the Red Wing games so now the search is on.  You know The Man is NOT doing the searching . . .  NO . . . HE is sitting right next to me or standing right behind me as I get to google all the information. Because he is not really computer literate he will stand in back of me saying things like. "Click on THAT !" while I have no idea what "That" is. If I scroll too fast he gets excited and starts yelling, "BACK, BACK BACK".  He doesn't understand that you can't just click on anything so he will often try telling me to click on something that is not a link and then gets excited when it goes no where.  

This season 's search began a week ago.  As soon as I started the search I realized, (because I READ on the site), NHLTV had joined with ESPN so you would need to subscribe to ESPN+.  As soon as I saw this I mentioned it to The Man but he knew better so we did NOT go directly to "GO" and collect our $200. Instead we spent days searching off and on for the stupid hockey season information.  Naturally I just shut the hell up and let him call his son in Alaska so the two of them could figure it out.  

The annoying thing is that I will be doing something when it will strike The Man that NOW is the time to renew our hockey search.  I will tell him I'm in the middle of something so he will then follow me around for how ever long it takes for me to want to kill him. At that point I know it is a lost cause so I will get to the computer and the search will continue.  

Yesterday was one of those days.  I was totally stressed out about the lake I had in my car after the rain storm the previous night.  I was up early researching new cars when you know who showed up and suggested we check into the hockey situation. At eight o'clock in the morning this is the LAST thing I want to be doing.  After searching for more information WE finally found a phone number for The Man to call and guess what the real live person on the other end of the phone told The Man. ????????     ESPN+ is carrying all the hockey games this season.  You need to subscribe to them.  WE had done just that a week ago when I told The Man that was what he would need to do but he was sure I was wrong.  When we set up the account I asked him for a password but he said he couldn't come up with one, I should pick.  I chose something common to both of us and, because I was putting all the info into the computer, I asked him to WRITE THE PASSWORD DOWN !!!!!!    Guess what we can't find and have been searching for for the past 48 hours? !   It is no where to be found in my LRB because I didn't write it in my LRB.  

And I wonder why I have panic attacks at 4 in the morning. 

B P NUMBERS

 Do NOT tell me what my blood pressure is . . .   it is a Catch 22 at best.  I take my blood pressure because the cardiologist wants me to keep a daily record.  I try to sit quietly, uncross my legs, take deep breaths but the fact that I am taking my blood pressure give me major anxiety so no matter what I do it is going to read high.  

Should I loose 50 pounds to help lower myBP ?  YES !!  Should I change my diet to eliminate red meat and salt and processed foods?   YES !!!!    Should I get my butt out of the house and walk walk walk every day !  ABSOLUTELY !!!!!   But it is so much more entertaining to do none of the above and then have daily panic attacks when my BP reads 193/104 . . .    And besides, now I have a topic for todays blog.

WE are back in Florida and I am finding all sorts of things to stress about.  I told myself I would feel better and my BP would settle down once I was "home" and close to family, friends and familiar doctors.  That didn't work quite as planned.  First off, there was the entire stress filled 4 days of travel which I might have mentioned in my last blog.  Now we are home and the house if filled with all the stuff that I brought back with us.  I had Keri and Finn put EVERYTHING from the car into the guest bedroom so I can shut that door and not have to look at the mess in there. But I know what's in there and it calls to me every day AND night.  "Come clean us up!', "I'm waiting to get put away!", "Helloooooo . . . !"  I hear these calls and I know I can just ignore them for now but I just can't settle down until things are back to "normal". 

Add to the mess in the house, (Did I mention the 2 boxes of apples that are still sitting on the dining room table?) I also have the whole moldy, smelly, rotten car that is mine. My wonderful car that I love is totally destroyed with mold that has eaten the two front seats.  I mean literally EATEN the fabric on the seats.  I didn't know mold could do that but apparently it is one of the perks of having a car filled with toxic spores. I had really hoped that MAYBE I could get another year out of my car and then sell it before next summer but I NEED to get rid of it ASAP !!  Even though it was de-molded it stinks and the back door leaks so it is only a matter of time before it begins to turn green again.  

I was up at 6 AM this morning on my computer filling out information for "CARVANA" .  I have been told by reliable sources that this is a good way to get rid of my mold mobile.  After putting in all the required info it looks like I may actually get a few bucks for the poor thing.  WE shall see.   The reason I was up at 6 AM doing all this research was to avoid EXACTLY what happened at 8:00 AM when The Man found me in front of the computer in mission control. (AKA spare bedroom/ junk room/ pig sty.). The Man stood in the door way asking what I was doing. When I told him I was getting a quote for selling my car he asked how much they offered.  I told him and his response was, "And you're going to take THAT?"  I thought it was an excellent offer ! The car is 9 years old and is a rolling Petri dish.  Carvana is offering me more than half of what I paid for the car 8 years ago.  So when The Man put his two cents into my plan I almost bit off his head, chewed it up and spit it out !!!  It was not one of his smarter moves and it was not one of my  calmer moments.  I just want this car GONE !!!!  I asked him to please stop talking and leave me alone to finish what I was doing so he wandered back into the kitchen to await the explosion or the calm . . .  with me it's always a crap shoot as to which way a day can go.  

I had hoped that all would go smoothly but God is testing me. The title on my car had my old address so I crossed it out and wrote in my present address.  That apparently is a BIG "NO NO" so now I have to wait over a week to get an appointment with the DMV to get a new title. Then maybe I can get rid of the green glob.  

It just seems that since I have returned to Florida EVERYTHING I touch goes to shit. I have destroyed 3 dinners and a breakfast in the past 7 days.  (Did you know you shouldn't cook sweet potatoes in the microwave?  They come out like bricks.) (Did you know that if you over cook sausage patties they turn into hockey pucks?) 

Suffice to say I am a HUGE hot mess and it seems to be getting worse by the day.  I am not taking my blood pressure because that will only add to the stress.  Instead I am eating my weight in chocolate and hoping for a quick and painless death as soon as possible. I know that will not happen because God is SMART and there is no way He wants me anywhere near him.  (Of course with the amount of cursing I have been doing I will probably go straight to Hell.). 

I am finding some humor in all this.  Tonight I wanted to go to 4:00 mass for some quiet time with the Lord but instead a HUGE storm rolled through just as I was getting ready to leave.  I was dressed, hair combed, make-up on when suddenly my phone starts blaring out a WEATHER ALERT !!!!!!  "SEVERE THUNDERSTORMS IN AREA !  GAIL FORCE WINDS WITH POSSIBLE TORNADO'S OR WATER SPOUTS.  LOCAL FLOODING!   OK God, you trying to tell me something ??   I took off my shoes and church clothes, put on my comfy clothes and made a LARGE drink !  Then I burned dinner.  

Now I'm out on the lanai sitting in the dark with my computer in my lap.  The Man is watching hockey. WE spent the past half hour trying to figure out how he can get to watch ALL his Detroit Red Wing games this season. Because he is not computer literate that job gets put on me with him looking over my shoulder the entire time.  I did manage to give the illusion of remaining calm but I am not taking my BP any time soon. 

CRANKY ? ! ? ! ? ! ?

 I just can NOT imagine why last night The Man asked me if I was "Cranky".  We had only been traveling for 4 days from Michigan having numerous minor irritations and one MAJOR irritation on our last night of travel.  

The Man does a masterful job of driving.  He is a good driver, no, he is an EXCELLENT driver and I really do appreciate that. (Remember I was married to Husband for 47 years and there were many, many times that my death by auto accident was just seconds away.)  So I do appreciate that The Man drives all 1,700 miles from The Farm to Florida with a minimum of gasps or screams issuing from my mouth.  

Because The Man does all of the driving I naturally get to do EVERYTHING else.  For those of you who do not spend days traveling in a car with a man with severe COPD let me explain exactly what "everything" entails. 

Starting with our preparation for leaving town I get to do all the manual labor of shutting down. Locking windows, turning off the water heater, putting everything from outside away in the garage, (I did have the boys next door to help with that), emptying the fridge, taking out garbage and most labor intensive of all, PACKING THE CAR.  This is no easy task because the car is sitting outside the back door which is down a set of stairs so each trip gives me lots of exercise.  I started packing the car 2 weeks ago and was doing a pretty good job with the exception of having to literally crawl into the trunk to stuff things as far back as possible. (The Man drives a Chevy Malibu with a nice big trunk but I am used to the "way back" of my little SUV which is a thousand times easier to pack!). So now besides stairs I am also carrying and reaching and pushing and shoving things into a car trunk. Add to that having to carry 2 oxygen concentrators out of the house and lift them into the back seat of the car along with the large HEAVY tank of oxygen.  It is more of a work out than I normally get. 

 Hopefully I have thought of everything The Man and I will need to make our journey south.  (My brain is working at warp speed and I don't sleep for days before we leave.)

Once we are on our way all is well with the world until it comes time to stop for the night.  NOW it is my job to find a hotel. Trying to nail down The Man to an area to begin my search is always an adventure.  Once we get that far I can locate all the options on my phone.  EXCEPT The Man is a member of "Wyndham Rewards" program and he has points.  SO . . .  I need to find a Wyndham property.  We can call Wyndham directly but then we have to also call the hotel to make sure we get a room as close to an exit door as possible because The Man can not walk distances. (Except when he goes to his rehab and is so proud of himself for walking "15 minutes on the treadmill !!!!! ".   That is a wonderful thing but as I have mentioned often both to you and to him . . .  if you can walk 15 minutes on the treadmill you can walk down the hall of a motel. ). Bottom line,  our choosing a motel is stressful at best.  AND The Man likes to keep it as cheap as possible.  (He thinks this is still the 60's and you can get room for $29 a night) Once the motel is booked I now have to navigate The Man to the location.  MORE  STRESS !  When we get to the motel  I have to go in to register and check out the room.  There is ALWAYS some issue there ! It is a MAJOR stress factor for me.  

Our hotels were adequate.  Semi decent and the sheets seem clean.  The Man does not seem to notice the carpet that is about 80 years old or the other twenty things that I could list.  He is tired after driving so we are glad to just crash.  The fact that his feet were sticking to the floor in motel #2 did cause him some concern but not enough to pay more for a better hotel the next night.   

Once in the room I now have the job of bringing in ALL the stuff we will need for the night.  2 overnight bags, (his weighs a ton because it contains nebulizer and medications and other medical stuff.). Sometimes the motel will have a cart that I can use to bring everything in but that's not always the case. After three trips to the car and back I now get the job of finding some place to go to get takeout for dinner.  Heaven forbid we stop at a drive through BEFORE we get to the motel.  NOoooooooo. We have to wait until The Little Prince is settled in his room and then send the idiot woman out on a search for food !!!  

Our first night on the road we were fortunate to have a Cracker Barrel right next to the motel. I called in an order and while we were waiting for it to be ready for pick up I got a call back saying they were out of the turkey that I had wanted.  I chose something else, the girl "threw in" all the turkey "fixings" and a free dessert.  Good deal. Right ?   I ate WAY too much thanks to all the delicious sides they gave me so I couldn't lie down without feeling nauseous and The Man ate something in his order that gave him the runs in the middle of the night.  Not a good start to our journey.

Night two had the sticky floor room and soup for dinner from the gas station across the road.

Then there was our last night on the road . . .  That day we had gotten to Atlanta, GA where we stopped for an hour to visit my oldest child, Kyle and his wife Bridget. WONDERFUL !! That was the high point of the trip for me !!  We left their house at 2 in the afternoon and hit bumper to bumper traffic for the next 2 hours.  It was at this point that The Man started to loose his focus so there was a LOT of gasping and dash-board clutching on my part.  We finally made it to Tifton, GA where we would stay for the night.  Kyle called just before we reached Tifton and offered us his points to stay at a Marriott in Tipton but we had already made a reservation at the Wyndham Comfort Inn and Suites. (sounds nice doesn't it?). Got to the motel and it was nice. We had requested a room close to an exit and we got a room half way down the hall.  The girl at the desk was very pleasant BUT had nothing else available on the first floor.  We drove around to the entrance door, I wedged it open and started dragging things into the room.  As soon as I opened the door I was struck by a SMELL.  (I am very aware of smells so I don't panic right away.) I figured we could just open the door and turn on the fan for a while and it would be OK.  I should have known better.  Three trips to the car and back I asked The Man if he noticed the smell.  He said he couldn't smell anything.  It smelled like wet, stale carpet which is exactly what it was. I took off my shoes to get comfortable and stepped into a puddle of God only knows what in the carpet.  It was at this point that I spun around and told The Man to get up we were LEAVING !!!!!!   I went up to the desk and told them what was going on to cancel our reservation, which they gladly did because by then I was a lunatic and they were probably envisioning either a mass shooting or a law suit.  I called Kyle who made us reservations just down the street at a WONDERFUL, CLEAN, NON SMELLY Fairfield Inn.  

Three trips to the car to repack from smelly motel but only one trip, with a cart, to our room that was RIGHT INSIDE the exit at the Fairfield.  We had a good nights sleep which was good because the drive from GA to home was filled with traffic. Once we got home Keri and Finn came over to help us unload the car and all was well with the world.  Until it was time for dinner.  Keri had picked up milk and bread for me because The Man and I planned on Chinese delivery for dinner.  NOT !! Yin Can Cook is closed on Sunday !!!  Of course they are !!  I couldn't stand another night of sandwiches or "fast food" so I dug out a couple of frozen steaks and some home fries that had been in the freezer a bit too long.  But at least it was real food.  By 7:00 I was DONE.  The entire time I was getting settled in to the condo and making dinner and running a load of laundry through The Man was sitting on the couch watching football.  

When The Man came into the bedroom at seven where I was relaxing, feet up trying  and get the swelling in my legs to go down, heating pad on my aching back and tried to turn on the bedroom TV I was about at my breaking point.  The Man didn't have his glasses on so couldn't see what buttons to push on the remote. What ever he did he screwed it up and then wanted me to straighten it all out, which of course I did.  As I handed the clicker back to him he asked, "ARE YOU CRANKY?" 

Just let me say that at that moment The Man did have a small flash of intelligence when, after he asked me if I was "CRANKY" and I glared at him and shouted. "YES !!!!!!!!!!!!  I.  AM.   CRANKY !!!!!!!! ",  he was smart enough NOT to ask me "WHY?".   

If that had been the case you would not be reading my blog today.  Instead you would be reading              The Man's Obituary !