MY NEW PET

 After all these years of having all sorts of pets I have FINALLY hit upon the PERFECT pet.  

When my kids were growing up they would always be asking to get a pet.  Usually it was a dog but they soon learned that their father was not an "animal person".  He got that from his mother who would shriek and flinch if anything brushed against her. (That response was not exclusive to pets. She pretty much reacted the same way if one of my children came near her.) Because Husband grew up with this creature hating woman he naturally shared the same lack of affection for creatures of any kind. (I do believe I was included in that group but that's a whole other blog.) 

As a result of this constant bombardment of negative thinking regarding God's small creatures my poor kids were left without a dog for most of their lives. We did manage to adopt several cats throughout the years which only caused my daughter to sneeze, itch and drip gallons of water from her running eyes and nose. (Allergies run strong in my poor girl.)  Husband would regularly mutter about the "Damn Cat" until the cats had had enough and would disappear the first chance they got. 

From felines we moved on to all of the following; 

A small Quaker parrot named Figment who I really enjoyed.  This bird was FUNNY. As soon as you stepped into the house it would start yelling its name over and over until you let it out of its cage.  As soon as the cage door was opened the silly little thing would climb out and make its way down the outside of the cage until it got to the floor. It would then RUN across the floor to the nearest person where it would climb up your leg and torso in order to sit on your shoulder or your head.  I found this tremendously funny but Husband HATED it so naturally the bird's stay with us only lasted a little over a year.  

After Figment came a stream of fish, lizards, frogs and one garter snake name Chuck. (All of these creatures were my youngest son's "pets" (How you can consider a fish or snake a pet is beyond me but we had them anyway.) Funny thing was that my son was actually afraid of the snake so guess who got to feed it and pick it up in order to clean its aquarium. Fun times !

Our very BEST pet until we got the dog was our Guinea Pig named Max.  Max was a "gift" from my BFF Sharon. (Actually it was Sharon's husband Bob who had the brilliant idea to get his 2 boys a Guinea Pig and for what ever reason he bought one for us also. At the time my oldest son was only about 3 and I was pregnant with my daughter.  Great thinking Bob !). But Max the Guinea Pig turned out to be a WONDERFUL pet.  He lived in a dresser drawer that sat on the basement floor.  He never climbed out but when we took him out to play he would scamper around being nosey. He ate carrots out of the kids hands and liked to be picked up and petted.  He lived for about 6 years so I guess he enjoyed his time with us. 

It wasn't until my oldest was in high school, my daughter was in middle school and the youngest was in 5th grade that Husband FINALLY "allowed" us to get a puppy.  It was the perfect storm that got him to consider acquiring a dog.  My daughter was having problems with anxiety and middle school was Hell for her. Husband thought that maybe a dog would help her be less anxious. When we just happened to be in the local pet shop where they had a batch of puppies that needed adopting it wasn't too difficult to get Husband to give in.  That was how we obtained Shadow.  Shadow was a wonderful dog but as usually happens the kids were growing up and leaving home and Husband wanted no part of The Dog so Shadow became MY pet.  Because she was such a great dog I loved having her company. She and I had some great conversations on more than one occasion. She survived for 12 years before she had enough and went to the great dog park in the sky. I always told Husband that when he died I was going to stop at the animal shelter on my way home from the cemetery. I didn't do that so to this day I still do not have a dog or any other pet. 

UNTIL . . .  This past week I realized that I DO have a pet . . . No . . .  Not The Man . . .  even though I do have to feed and walk him. (He actually makes a terrible pet because he refuses to be trained and he NEVER listens.)  Instead I have "Shlurpie".  Shlurpie is my robot vacuum and it is a great pet.  I only realized this last Tuesday when I had the vacuum running around the house picking up what ever it picks up. As I was straightening up the place I found myself having a conversation with the vacuum . . . (I guess that is a little better than talking to myself.). I happened to be in the same room when Shlurpie got stuck under the couch and as it sat there beeping I found myself talking to it, "Hey Shlurpie, how the hell did you get stuck there? You know you can't fit under the couch, you got stuck in the same place last week." 

The conversation continued from there and "we" solved most of the world problems for that day.  I actually enjoyed the conversation because I did not hope for or expect a response which is much more than I ever hope for from The Man.  But at least he doesn't get stuck under the couch. 

SHARING MY BED

 When you are married for 46 years you become quite accustomed to sharing the bed.  Some sleep partners take up more room than others, some make bodily noises, (I leave that to your imagination) and some steal the covers.  A person can become quite accustomed to all of the above and even get to the point of not even being aware of any of this. It is all just part of being sharing your bed with another person. 

BUT . . . I have a problem.  I am used to sharing my bed with The Man, I am used to sharing my bed with the occasional grand child or pet but I do not like sharing my bed with all of the extras that The Man brings to bed with him. I have no problem with the three hundred feet of oxygen hose that is wrapped around him as he sleeps.  He has done a wonderful job of keeping me "tangle free" so that when I wake up in the middle of the night to stagger into the potty I am not caught up in yards of "rope" like a calf in a rodeo event. I am usually awake enough on my mid-night wanderings that I can navigate around the oxygen hose and make it to the bathroom without getting tangled in tubing. 

But when I wake up in the morning and go to make our bed it is like navigating through a mine field. I pull back the top covers and things go flying.  If they aren't being flung across the room when I shake out the sheets I find the assortment of "goodies" laying around IN the bed. In this instance the "goodies" are anything but good.  First I must collect the forty-seven soggy, snotty, crumpled, used tissues. Because The Man is on oxygen 24/7 his nose is constantly running so he is constantly wiping his nose with a tissue.  If I had realized this years ago I would have purchased a massive amount of stock in the Kleenex Company. We go through tissues like a new born goes through diapers.  We buy our tissues by the case so that there is at least one tissue box in every room of our house. Thus when The Man goes to bed he usually has several tissues in hand or on his night stand, all of which end up IN the bed by morning. There are some mornings that I pull back the covers and think that it must have snowed during the night because the sheet is covered in white.  

Once all the tissues are gathered and disposed of I then have to collect the assortment of clickers. THESE are the things that more times than not have gone flying across the room when I pull back the comforter. I am never sure if I will find them on top of the covers or under the covers. It's a guessing game each day.  It is not like there is one clicker either.  NO . . .  we have a minimum of THREE at any given time. The Man has the TV clicker, the "Netflix" clicker and his remote control for the bed.  (We have a wonderful bed that you can raise and lower and make vibrate.)  Both The Man and I have our own remote so if I forget to put mine on the night stand we can wind up with FOUR clickers in the bed. I usually put mine on the night table because I KNOW there is a very good possibility that if I left it in the bed I would roll over onto it during the night. If that happens I find myself being vibrated or elevated to a sitting position. Not a very good way to be woken up from a good sleep.  Because I don't like being woken up I try to make a point of putting the clicker OFF the bed.  Apparently The Man feels differently because he ALWAYS leaves his clicker in the bed so that many a night I am woken up by his side of the bed shaking like an earth quake. Add to that the TV clicker that he also rolls over on to during the night so that not only do I find myself in an earthquake but Fox News is now blasting from the TV.  

Thank goodness we do not eat in bed because I would then be rolling onto dishes and knives and forks. 

And I wonder why I am tired in the morning !

THE GUATEMALAN NANNY

 I am not being racist . . . I am making a point.  Living in South Florida most of our under paid, unappreciated and hardest working people are from Guatemala.  I doubt that most of them are here legally but that fact does not come in to play when you are looking for a good, hard worker to clean your house, landscape your property or watch your children. I have yet to meet a single obnoxious person from this third world country. They work hard at what ever it is they are doing but no one acknowledges their existence.  They are invisible to the world unless they screw up.  They are here to make money to send back to their families so that those left in Guatemala can have slightly better lives. 

My point today is the un appreciated part of the lives of these people because this weekend I am getting a taste of what it must feel like to be in their shoes.  I am spending the weekend at my daughter's house,"babysitting" her two children ages 14 and 11.  It is interesting to say the least. I see these kids all the time and have been very involved with their lives since the day they were born.  They are, after all, my daughter's kids and that makes them even more special. (There's something about my daughter's daughter that tugs at my heart.) I adore all my grandkids and because I spend more time with these two I am more involved in their every day lives. 

BUT . . . Up until now these grand kids have been exactly that . . . KIDS . . . suddenly I am dealing with a teen age girl and a pre pubescent boy.  OI !!!!!!  I mean, I had 3 kids, they were all teenagers but this is a whole different world. Between cell phones and video games I have not had a conversation of more than three words with either of them.  And those words were squeezed in between commercials, calls and running, jumping, shooting in the video game. (These video games are horrid !!!!!!)  I have NO idea what the purpose of al the running and jumping is but Finn seems to know what he's doing.  I love it when he says, "Watch this grandma . . . "  I haven't got a clue what the hell I"m watching, which character is the one being controlled by Finn or what the point of all this is. But I nod and throw in a "WOW" every so often and that seems to make the boy happy.  

As for the teenage girl . . .  HOLY CRAP !!!!  When my kids were teens they came home from school, grabbed a snack form the kitchen, grunted a hello to me and went into their rooms to do God knows what while blasting U2 or New Kids On The Block tunes. There would be some occasional drama but for the most part life was pretty simple.  NOW . . . I think the cell phone is a permanent part of the girls anatomy. It seems to have grown right into the palm of her hand so that she never has to look for it.  (On average I loose my cell phone 10 times a day. Most of the time I don't know where it is so when it rings I have to run around like an idiot following the sound of it ringing.) 

This morning I was in the kitchen making our traditional "breakfast with grandma" chocolate chip pancakes when The Girl blew into the room.  Finn had already humored me by eating a pancake, I think he would have much rather not eaten anything but being the good kid he said "yes" to my offer to cook. Kaelin plopped down on the couch in the den, phone in one hand and video controller in the other because her brother had put the game controller down in order to eat.  There were a minimum of 4 conversations going on at one time none of which I was included in.  Kae and Finn were talking, Finn was on his hand held game thing talking to his friend who was God knows where but playing the same game, (I didn't know they could talk to other players through the game thingy.) (I AM A DINOSAUR)  Kaelin was talking on her phone while also talking with someone through her game controller.  I just wanted to have breakfast with my grandkids and talk but that apparently is not an option.  At one point I walked into the den and told them to shut off EVERYTHING and come eat and speak with me.  I felt like an ogre but I just needed to connect with them.  

We briefly discussed what they had in mind for the day . . . none of which included me . . .  and they went back to talking on hand held devices.   

I am feeling like a Guatemalan Nanny who exists but is not seen or heard from. I miss my grand kids ! Could I have insisted they stay home and do something with me . . . Sure . . . but none of us would have been happy. It's a different world with totally different norms. I still want to be the "Cool" grandma so if that means letting them have their space to grow in this insane world then that is what I will do.  

I am here ALONE at their house, sitting outside in the sun, writing blogs and playing on MY iPad. I have asked The Lord to watch over my grand kids just like I used to do when my children were out and about on their own.  I trust that between The Lord and the kids smarts they will stay safe throughout the day.

 In the mean time I am REALY enjoying my quiet, ALONE time. 

Oh, and by the way . . .  have no fear that I will gain 20 pounds from sitting around doing nothing. ALL the snacks in my daughter's home are either gluten free, lactose free or non GMO. Other than the 500 boxes of Girl Scout Cookies in the living room that my grand daughter is selling there isn't a single thing in the entire house that doesn't taste and look like soggy cardboard. 

YOU . . . ARE GOING . . . TO DIE !!!!!!!!

 We are all going to die . . .   we all know that the two sure things in life are "Death and Taxes" .  Some very cleaver, (or stupid, depends on how you look at i)t,  people manage to avoid taxes but death is totally unavoidable.  It is going to happen to all of us.  

But some of us seem to have a death wish.  They do REALLY REALLY STUPID things that can hasten their demise and yet they keep on doing them.  Take for instance diving off cliffs, parachuting from airplanes, running into burning buildings, driving the speed limit in the left lane on the highways of Florida.  All of these can cause your early death. (The last of these is the most dangerous!) And yet people persist each and every day in doing these stupid things.  

The Man does not do any of the above things. He survived the Vietnam war, he flew helicopters all over Germany and the USA, he raised 2 children, and yet now in his "golden" years he seems to have a desire to die. It could be that these "Golden Years" are anything but golden, more like rust covered rotten tomatoes, but none the less we are alive and I do enjoy each and every day that I wake up and can stand on my own two feet. 

Apparently The Man does not share my zest for life because he keeps doing the same stupid things over and over again !   What would those stupid things be ?  He keeps waking ME up from a sound sleep. ON PURPOSE !!!!!!   It is one thing when your partner is snoring or talking in their sleep or even getting up ten times a night to pee, (All of those fit my profile) but those are things you can't help. They are just part of your anatomy and you have no control over them.  But purposely waking a sleeping woman is grounds for a long and painful death. 

The Man and I have been together for 6, (SIX) years. Husband and I were married for 46, (FORTY SIX), years.  Over the span of our forty six years of marriage Husband did manage to figure out just what would piss me off and what he should NEVER do.  I give him a lot of credit for learning as our lives together progressed.  The Man seems to be getting stupider as the years pass.  When I first met him he was a good listener, he cooked for me, he made decisions on his own and he would never consider "Poking The Bear". Fast forward six years and all I can say is that The Man's COPD must be depriving his brain of oxygen because he is getting dumber by the day.

I LOVE to sleep.  It my escape and my "alone" time.  I do not sleep during the day because then I don't sleep as well at night.  I have recently been diagnosed with sleep apnea but have not yet gotten a machine to correct this condition. Apparently this sleep disorder disturbs the quality of my sleep and that is why I am waking up tired.  On the nights that I can manage to get 10 hours of sleep I fell pretty good when I wake up but anything less than that causes me to be tired all day.  Now that WE know this to be a fact you would think that SOME OF US would respect the sleep habits of their partners.  But instead of that happening Mr. "Dead Brain Cell" seems to be on a mission to keep me to a minimum of sleep.

Do you think The Man has an agenda?  Do you think The Man is trying to get rid of me? If I didn't know just how incapable of taking care of himself he is I might start to wonder.  Then again . . .  maybe it's all an act ?????? 

What ever the case The Man is going to die long before he gets rid of me.  

Usually when The Man needs me to wake up he will stand at the bottom of the bed and pat or shake my feet until I wake up.  He DID learn early on in our relationship that calling my name does not work because I can't hear for S--T once I take out my hearing aids.  Then he tried patting me on the back but by doing that he was in danger of getting hit because he was standing way to close to my arms.  So he settled on standing at the foot of the bed, far enough away from flailing arms, and patting my feet.  This worked well for both of us so why he decided to change his approach mystifies me.  

Now when The Man decides I need to wake up he turns on all the lights so that I feel like I am being interrogated by the CIA. Perhaps it is my Vampire blood that causes me to react to bright light in a darkened room but what ever the case it is down right painful to me.  At night The Man likes to watch TV in bed and I hate the way the light on the TV screen brightens and dims depending on what is being shown on the screen.  I can't fall asleep because it is almost like a strobe light that kicks my brain into spasms. I have to cover my head completely in order to fall asleep. 

With that in mind if SOMEONE turns on a light right over my head while I am sleeping I wake with a jolt and sit up ready to go to battle.  It's not pretty.  So yesterday morning when we were in a motel in St. Augustine, Florida and my world was suddenly shattered by a bright light in my face I jumped up ready to kill the attacking hoard of invading Huns.  As I slowly came to my senses I realized I was in bed in our motel room and it was The Man who had disturbed my sleep. As bad as it was to have been awakened this way when I turned to look at the clock and realized it was only 7:15 AM I was ready to kill.  I was so angry I probably could have killed an entire army of marauding invaders. I looked over at The Man sitting quietly on his bed staring at me and said, rather loudly, "It's seven fifteen !!!!!!!!!!  What are you doing???????????? "  

Let me take a moment here to explain the past 3 days. On Tuesday we drove The Man's brother and sister in law up to St. Augustine.  None of them had ever been there so it seemed like a good idea. The Man drove the first half of the trip and I drove the last 2 hours.  We got 2 rooms in a very nice motel and settled in for the night. It was cold and rainy when we arrived so we were glad to get into our rooms.  No one wanted to go out to get dinner and no one seemed to want pizza delivery.  I knew this was not going to end well.  Finally our travel companions went out to check out the neighborhood and brought back an Italian  hero sandwich from the gas station across the road.  Not exactly the best dinner in the world but I was hungry and tired enough that I ate my half and actually enjoyed it.  The Man took one bite and decided it was too spicy so he had 2 cookies and called the dinner.  We were asleep by 8:30 with plans to meet at 8:30 in the morning down at the complimentary motel breakfast.  I woke up at 7"15 when The Man's alarm went off but relaxed in bed till he had all his morning routines and rituals over and done with. Having sleep nearly 11 hours I wasn't feeling bad at all.  After a decent breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage and waffles we loaded into the car and drove into town.  It was still pretty chilly so we decided to drop Dean and Lisa at the tour trolly with the idea of picking them up after a couple of hours.  The Man and I then drove down to the ocean where we found a little pizza shop. The Man wanted ice cream for lunch but I insisted on pizza.  It was excellent pizza !  After about an hour of driving around we went back to the motel where The Man promptly fell asleep for 3 hours.  I took a long walk, played on my iPad and then after getting a call from D & L returned to town to meet them.  The 3 of us walked all around the grounds at The Fountain of Youth.  We did drink the water but it was disgusting. After a couple of hours of that we headed back to the motel with a stop in between at Publix to buy some fried chicken for dinner. I figured that was the best of our options.  (The Man does NOT go out to eat.). We texted The Man to let him know we were on our way back so he would be up and awake.  The chicken was good ! But The Man only ate ONE WING !  By now I am thinking this is not going to end well.  He said he wasn't feeling well, no energy . . .   DUH !!!!!!!!!!!   Because he had napped ALL afternoon and had eaten nothing but a mouth full of egg and one slice of pizza all day he sat up watching TV eating cookies until after 10 that night.  (I have given up on the whole eating thing.  He knows better, he won't listen, so that is his choice.). I rolled over at 9:30, tired of all the walking and fresh air and feeling good. I hurried my head under the covers and went to sleep.

Thursday we were driving home.  There was NO HURRY to check out of the motel.  Check out was at 11:00 so WHY WHY WHY did The Man have to set his alarm for 7:15 in the morning is still one of the greatest mysteries of all times.  Because he had slept the entire day on Wednesday he woke up before his alarm and felt the need to wake me. In our room we had one of those little coffee makers so you can have a cup of coffee before heading down to the hotel breakfast.  The Man had used this little machine the previous day and for what ever reason used BOTH of the cups that were provided.  So here he was at 7:15 AM with NO cup in which to make his NECESSARY morning coffee.  Thus . . .  I had to be awake to accompany him in his misery.  Once I got my anger under control I told him he was quite capable of waling the 5 steps from our room to the elevator which would bring him downstairs right outside the breakfast room door where he could get fifty seven cups of freaking coffee !!!!!!! Again . . . DUH !!!  I think at this point The Man may have realized he was very close to a long and painful death if he did not leave the room immediately.  When I came out of the bathroom, where I had gone to try to calm down, The Man was not in the room.  A VERY VERY good move on his part.  

We were home in our house at noon.  I drove most of the way.  When we got home The Man took a nap and I went to Publix to get dinner,  

Today I am going over to my daughter's house to stay with her 2 kids for the weekend.  I am looking forward to spending some time away from this nut house and maybe getting some sleep.  My grand kids know better than to wake up Grandma !!!   

TOXIC FUMES TWO

 I realize that I pick on The Man and men in general so in all fairness I must admit to my very own extreme stupidity. I have on MANY occasions been extremely stupid but I rarely admit it.  Most times I look around to see if anyone has seen my faux pas and if I'm clear of witnesses I just move on like nothing has happened.  This can be the case in something as innocent as spilling my food down my chest or as dangerous as driving through a stop sign.  In either case I am being stupid and could end up with severe consequences.  In the case of eating like a pig I could end up having to buy a whole new outfit, (Oh how horrible!) but if I drive through a stop sign I could end up killing someone and/or myself.  

In my long and illustrious (?) life I have found myself doing some incredibly dumb things.  Most of these I have managed to blot from my memory but a few still do stick in my mind.  Two of them have to do with my cars.   There was the time that I was driving my big 8 passenger van down the road doing about 55 when I thought I was shifting it into "overdrive", ( Which was an extra gear that we used when going over 50 mph.  It was supposed to save gas but I have my doubts about that.   It think it was just a marketing gimmick.). Anyway . . .   I was rolling along singing with the radio while muttering under my breath about the most recent annoyance caused by Husband, when I automatically reached for the gear shift but instead of putting the car into overdrive I shifted into REVERSE.  (It was an automatic transmission so don't ask me what I was thinking other than the fact that I was NOT thinking. ) Well, there was a God awful grinding noise and the engine died. Thankfully I was not on the expressway or any other large and crowded highway.  I was on a large road that allowed me to do 55 mph but there was not much traffic so I just pulled the van to the side of the road and sat shaking at the thought of having killed my van and how was I going to explain this to Husband.  Thankfully the car started back up as if nothing had happened.  I NEVER told Husband or another living soul because it really was a stupid thing to do.  If I wasn't making a point  in todays blog that story may have gone to the grave with me. 

Stupidity #2 that I will share with you is the day I was backing my car out of the driveway and almost ripped off the drivers door.  I know you are trying to picture how I could manage that idiocy so I will enlighten you.  The car was parked up near the garage door and for what ever reason I wanted/needed to move the car back to the other end of the driveway. (It probably had something to do with the kids wanting to play in the driveway.) I got into the car, turned it on but left the door wide open . . .  I was just backing up a couple of feet so why bother shutting the door.  It all would have been fine except for the very large oak tree that stood on the left side of the drive way. I knew the tree was there, it had ALWAYS been there so why did I think I could back past it with the car door open?  Who knows . . .  but I do know that as soon as the door jammed into the side of the tree and nearly folded  in two I knew I was a complete idiot !!  Husband was not home at the time and all I could think of was how to cover this up so he would never know.  That was not even near to being possible so I had to admit my stupidity and take the car to the body shop on the corner to have them fix my mess. 

So with all those proofs of just how dumb I can be I guess setting fire to my recipe box isn't all that bad. But considering I had just had a run in with melting the plastic glasses on the back burner on my stove you really would have thought I would be more attentive and careful.  NOT !!  The other night I was cooking dinner for our house guests.  I had taken my little wooden recipe box from the cabinet and put it down on the stove. (I LOVE these ceramic cook top electric stoves but they are dangerous. It is all to easy to use them as extended counter space, which I do all the time.)  I took out the recipe I needed and pushed the box to the back of the stove because I would be using the oven to cook dinner.  Mid way through preparing the meal I decided I needed to make some rice to accompany the fish I was baking.  I got out the pot for the rice, added the water and butter and turned on the burner.  I SWEAR to you I looked to make sure I had the right burner turned on but . . .    Yup, you guessed it. The next minute I'm wondering what that odd smell was.  Thankfully I realized what I had done before there was any major damage, smoke or flames but I did have to grab to box and throw it into the sink to keep it from burning any more.  The house filled with smoke, doors had to get opened and fans had to be turned on full blast.   All this was made even more imbarasing because not only did we have our house guests but we also had invited another couple over for dinner so I had 5 witnesses to my latest dumb move.  

I am seriously hoping these are not the early signs of dementia but considering my past I think I'm good to go on that front.  I will just chalk it up to being an idiot and not focusing on what I am doing.  Trying to do three things at once is not a good thing for me to do.  Considering I can't walk and chew gum at the same time I guess this is all to be expected. Add to that I am a blond and over the age of 75 so maybe I'm not doing so bad after all. 

TIME FOR CHANGE

 Although I do think our nation REALLY needs to change its course that is not what I would like to write about today.  The change I am talking about has to do with The Man.  

I know men think differently but I can't wrap my head around their thought process. I guess men in general just think about things much more literally.  For instance if your man says something to you that you just can't believe you might respond by saying, "Get Out!", or in other words, "NO ! I just can't believe that!"  But when The Man hears you say, "Get Out" he becomes highly insulted thinking you actually want him to "get out". (Which, at times, is a valid assumption.) It seems to be a guy thing . . . what ever words you say they take literally so you really have to be careful with what you say. 

 I don't know if it is that men think differently or perhaps it is that they just don't listen with their full attention. Then when you say something like, "Get Out" they forget the entire conversation you were having and just hear those two words totally out of context.  I can't figure it but I know it's true.  It's like they only hear half of what you are saying.

This behavior spills over into their lives each and every moment of each and every day.  You will be in the middle of a conversation with a man when suddenly they start talking about something totally off the topic.  Example . . .  you are discussing what to have for dinner when The Man will say, "I need to get the oil changed in my car."  I usually stop talking and just look at him wondering where that came from and wait to see it it going to spill over into something else. It could go either way.  Sort of like where this blog is wandering all over the place.  Anyway . . . .  I can't figure out how this man thinks.

Back to yesterday.   I was out and about doing several chores before our house guests arrived when I got a call from The Man asking me to pick up beer at the big liquor store near us.  (Our house guests enjoy their beer and when they are here The Man will drink a lot more than he does when it is just the two of us. Thus we need to have a large supply of beer on hand along with an empty recycle bin which will be filled with empty beer cans in a matter of days.)   I was on the opposite side of town but I gladly made the stop and brought home 2 cases of 18 cans of beer.  I dragged them into the house and stuffed as much of them into the fridge as possible.  

(Please note that I do all the grocery shopping. I pay for ninety percent of the groceries and I cart the groceries into the house, put them away and then do all the cooking.)  I don't mind any of this BUT . . . 

When I got the beer put away The Man asked how much it cost. I told him it was twenty seven dollars and change.  He gallantly offered to pay which I thought was only fair because I do not drink any of this beer AND I had just spent over a hundred and fifty dollars on groceries for us and our guests who happen to be his family.  

Now here is where I have a problem. If the situation was reversed I would have offered to pay for ALL the GROCERIES and the beer but he did not. So I was just happy that he offered to pay for the beer. Again if the rolls were reversed and he told me I "owed" him $27 I would have just given him $30 and called it even. This man spent ten minutes looking through his pants pockets, dresser drawers and where ever else he stashes his cash until he found TWO single dollars to add to the ten and the five that he handed me.  

SERIOUSLY ??????????   I did NOT ask him for the sixty-three cents in change or how ever much it was over the $27 dollars.  I didn't even think when I rounded off the cost of the beer.  It was just easier to say $27 . . .  If I had known he was going to be so "exact" I would have told him the damn beer cost $30 and then considered myself lucky to get gas money included for my drive to the liquor store. 

It's a small thing but it just isn't something that a woman would do.  I never will understand the workings of the male mind.  

NO OFFENSE

 I am offended !  It seems that now a days EVERYONE needs to be offended by something or you are not normal.  (Normal being a very relative term.). I am offended that everyone is offended.  It's a crazy crazy world we are living in.

I would like suggest that all of you people out there who are offended each and every day by the slightest things spend a week with my family.  THAT would REALLY give you something to get your panties in a twist. You think you know what offensive behavior is ? HA !!!!  You haven't lived in my world.

I grew up with a German immigrant grand father living in my house and he ruled the roost with an iron fist.  His daughter, my mother, did not fall far from the Weiner Schnitzel tree.  My mother knew who was in charge and God help you if you forgot that person was her.  Not only was she a strict disciplinarian but when she spoke she had NO filters.  (In case you're not familiar with "filters", that is the little voice inside your head that stops you from saying cruel or stupid things at inappropriate times.)  I never knew what would come out of my mother's mouth when we were with people.  She would say things like, "OH, You're not as fat as you used to be." (That was my all time favorite because it was said often.)  or if it was raining out she might say, "Go on out, with your sour personality you won't melt." ( A take off from "go out in the rain, you're not made of sugar so you won't melt"). These offensive comments were made often and without malice.  It was just how she spoke and everyone who knew her gave her a pass when she would say something like that.  

Sadly this trait of speaking without thinking has taken root in most of my mother's family.  The Helfrich side of the family hosts many a non-thinking but well meaning person.  First and foremost of these is my oldest cousin who tells me that my intelligent and beautiful daughter must take after her father because she certainly doesn't take after me.  (A direct quote and in complete seriousness.) 

If I were an easily offended person, as it seems we are nurturing in our current society, I might never speak to the rest of my mothers family EVER again. But because I have had years and years of practice in developing a very thick skin, I just shake my head and write a blog about them. They are an endless source of entertainment.

Going along with all of this I would like to comment on the highly offensive questions that are now evident on every single form that you fill out when going to do anything medical.  You know what I'm referring to . . . Go into any doctors office and you are asked to fill out a stack of  papers asking about your medical history back to the day you were born.  (Why does the podiatrist need to know what my maternal grandmother died from?) But before you get to all those medical history questions you have to fill out the page asking for your personal information.  Name, address, phone number(s), e-mail address, insurance information, social security number etc.  And then down at the end of that page are the questions asking about your race . . . "circle one" . . .  African American,  white,  Hispanic,  other .  Other ???   As in Indian from India?  Asian ? South American ? Central American ? Mid Eastern ? South Eastern. West Eastern ?  North Eastern ?  East South West North Eastern ?????   REALLY ????  Why in God's name does any of this make any difference in how you're going to remove a mole from my butt ?????????

But it gets even better.  The next line asks for your Ethnicity ??  And this is a joke because the two choices here are . . . Hispanic or Latino  OR  non Hispanic or Latino . . .   WTF ?????  It should ask "are you alive or not alive".   But I guess it isn't necessary to ask that last question because if you are filling out these forms on your computer the VERY LAST question you need to answer is . . . (check the box)

                                                        I AM NOT A ROBOT 

So after all this all I have to say is "Get over yourselves people !  Stop looking for things to be offended by and start being nice to others so you don't offend them !"