Pardon My French

My grandma's dead.

I almost didn't believe my aunt when she called me the day after my grandma died. Oh, yeah, sure she was old but I thought she'd live forever. I mean she was getting close to forever, she was pushing 91 years old but she didn't really look much more than maybe 79. And she only acted like she was about 50.

Grandma was gallivanting around the country, staying with family members til they pissed her off or she pissed them off (not really but kinda). She had left Florida, made a couple of stops to visit and was planning to stay in Maine for a while. Apparently she had a massive heart attack.

I saw her just a month ago in Indiana, almost by accident. I called my aunt to say we weren't going to be able to drive down to see her because Big Daddy's grandmother was ill and we had to rush to Nebraska and my aunt told me I was going to miss grandma by a week.

Then lo and behold, my grandma came to me. I really don't know if she changed her plans just to see us because it didn't matter to me. I got to see my grandma. My girls got to see their great-grandma (that title always seemed redundant, of course she was great). My husband got to witness a glimpse of what I may look/act like in my senior years.

Grandma was serious and silly, smart and naive, old but young, forgetful with a mind like a steel trap. She was generous with her love, her time, and her hugs. She could be stubborn and ungiving in her opinions. She was a lady that swore in French but only apologized when she swore in English.

Last month, we were all sitting around the kitchen table at my mom's house, me, the princesses, Big Daddy, an aunt and her friend, grandma, and my mom. I don't remember what set her off but grandma had a strong opinion and blurted out "That's just bullshit" and then glancing at little princess, added "Pardon my French." I had to call her on it. I looked at Big Princess, "I'm not sure but since you've had 4 years of French... Is 'bullshit' really French?" Grandma just busted up laughing.

Help, It's broken and I can't shoot crap!

So it's T-minus 5 days until the big skeet shoot. I'm not a bad shot but I've never shot in front of a crowd. Heck, I've never shot in front of anybody but a couple of friends and family. Oh, and I've never shot skeet in a professional format. I'm a little nervous about looking like an idiot in front of, oh, 50 or more co-workers.

I call my workout buddy and see if he'll pull targets for me on Sunday afternoon. I pack up and head to the range. I take about 15 warm up shots, taking my time, calling for the targets, and hitting probably 12 of 15. I'm jazzed. I'll be fine. I give my buddy a turn and then I set up and load. We discuss the format, 30 birds in 60 seconds, 2 shooters, 15 shells apiece, can only load 2 at a time. After we work out the math, we realize I'll have to fire 2 rounds in 4 seconds, load 2 shells in 3 seconds to give me 1 second to aim for the next 2 rounds. Holy crap!

I give it a shot. This is way hard. I fumble with the shells, dropping some on the ground, taking too long to turn them the right way. I may have hit 1 bird out of 10 before I had to stop because I was totally worn out and breathing hard. I let my buddy try. Then the shotgun jammed. I was a little freaked because we couldn't get the live shell out of the chamber. I knew we weren't supposed to leave our lane with ammo in the gun. I sure as hell didn't want to drive home with a shell stuck in the chamber.

We managed to jimmy it out and tried again. Jammed. "Screw this, get it out and let's go home," I told him. We went back to my house and tore it down, cleaned it and put it back together. Buddy says, "Let's try loading it with the safety on and see if it still jams."

"Ahhh, not in the house dude. Let's take it out front." We go to the front yard and try to load it. It jams. We jimmy the shell out and try again. It jams. I realized this might look bad for my neighbors to see us standing in the front yard, loading and reloading my shotgun. "Let's call it a day. I'll have to take it to a gunsmith tomorrow. This sucks!"

I run up to the gun shop early this morning only to be told the turnaround time is 10 to 13 days. No good I tell them. I need it Friday. They say Ok and I ask if I can pick it up Thursday, close of business. "No, I meant Friday 3 pm." "But the event starts at 9 am Friday morning in a town 3 hours away from here." I'm told sorry but they are already rushing it for me.

I go back to the office and start calling every gun shop within 60 miles of town. I find one that says their turnaround time is just 3 days. Perfect, I'll have it back in time to attend on Friday. I just won't have any time to practice or test the gun.

So I head back to the gun shop around 3:30 pm to retrieve my shotgun and get it to the new gunsmith before they close at 5:30 pm. A guy asks if he can help me. "Yeah, I dropped my shotgun off this morning but I've located someone that can look at it right away. Can you get it for me." I hand him my claim ticket. He heads to the back and doesn't reappear for like 10 minutes.* I was starting to wonder where the hell my shotgun was when he comes out and lays it on the counter.

"It's done."

"Excuse me?"

"It's fixed."

"Are you SHITTING me?" I practically scream it at him.

"Ahhh, no ma'am... I'm not shitting you."

"It's FIXED? What was wrong? See I was going to have to cancel.. What happened? They told me 10 to 13 days this morning... I have a company skeet shoot on Friday and I wasn't going to be able to shoot... What did he find? It's fixed? Really?"

"Well, you must have impressed someone because its fixed. There's no charge, its still under warranty. He adjusted blah, blah, blah." (I quit listening after the "its free" part)

"It's fixed? There's no charge? I can shoot stuff? Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I've got my baby back and time to blow stuff up before the big day (T-minus 4 days and counting).

*Of course I'm totally convinced that they fixed it during the 10 minute period that he was "looking" for it because they knew it was under warranty and didn't want to lose the money if I took it somewhere else.

Hang on folks, this is gonna be a bumpy ride.

So I'm already beat from two days of traveling but I have to get up at 3:45 am to head to the airport for the first freakin flight of the day to Houston (the actual flight number is "freakinHOU") for a meeting at 8 am.

I climb into bed after Big Daddy finally rises for work at 10:30 pm. (I rarely ever go into the bedroom in the evening. That would be like him creeping around at 4 am when I get up at 6 am.) And what time did I wake up for the airport?

No, I didn't wake up late and miss my flight.

I wake up at 2:30 am and can't get back to sleep!!!! (!!!!!!!!!!)

I putter about until its time to wake Big Princess at 4:15 am to drive me to the airport (cause I'm too cheap to pay $18/day for parking... and I refuse to drag my luggage the 5 miles between the parking lot and the terminal when I can force her to chauffer me).

We sit on the plane for an hour with electrical problems. I've consumed $32.77 worth of Starbuck's coffee and I refuse to crawl over everyone to pee on the plane but my leg is jumping like Mexican Jumping Beans. We finally take off and no sooner than we get in the air, the sky turns dark and its raining hard enough to raise zombies from their graves. The plane starts bouncing like crazy and the captain semi-shouts over the intercom for the wait staff, sorry, I mean flight attendents to sit down and buckle up. At one point we fall like 40 feet out of the sky and I yipe like a dog that's been kicked in the ribs. I'm starting to feel at little queasy and wonder if I've got a barf bag in my seat pocket. I look out my window to take my mind off my full bladder and bubbling stomach acid. I'm not sure if lightening struck the wing tip or just nearby but I'm blind for 3 minutes and during this time wonder if I will die blind in a puddle of vomit with pee pants.

We finally land in the land of stinky-water-vapor-for-air. I spend all day in a conference where it is so cold my nipples still hurt some 6 hours later. My boss then dumps me back at the airport at 3:15 pm, too late to catch the 3:30 back home. I check in and WHOA, I'm upgraded to Elite Status, thereby granting me the short line thru body cavity search security, the priviledge of sitting in the emergency exit row without paying my only good kidney for the extra 6 inches of leg room and allowing me to board prior to babies and old people in wheelchairs. I'm not sure what I've done to deserve this but finally, I'm going to travel in luxury. The down side? The next flight doesn't leave for 3 hours. Time to locate the closest alcohol depot to my gate.

As I'm walking the 22.5 miles to my gate, I pass the gate where the 3:30 flight home leaves from and I see the flight has been delayed until 4:30. Hmmmm, I wonder if it has any seats available. No harm in just checking, right?

I hear the two people ahead of me ask the very same thing. Oh, did I mention that the sky is black and its raining zombies? I ask the lady behind the counter if there's room for one more and she says, "Nope but you can probably get on... you'll have to go standby but with the weather, there should be seats available due to missed connections."

I take a seat and cross my fingers. My boss calls to tell me that if I run into problems, I should feel free to rent a car (one-way) and drive home or I can get a hotel and fly out tomorrow. Look, I'm too cheap to spend $18 of the company's money for one day's parking. I'd sleep in the terminal before taking either of those options. He suggests that I round up everyone headed the same direction that doesn't make the "standby cut" and charge them to ride home with me, thereby, possibly, making a profit. "Oh, like the company doesn't make enough money, now I'm supposed to pimp myself out to wayward travellers to cover the cost of a one-way rental car?"

I have to send the evil eye to the guy next to me who's crossing his fingers that his buddy's flight will arrive in time for him to make this flight. Its a race against time. "Please let this flight board before the guy can run the 26 mile marathon between terminals." I am the second to last person allowed to get onboard. The guy with the curse of the evil eye looks up when I bash him in the head with my laptop case as I come down the isle. "Hey, you made it. Congratulations."

Its another bumpy flight home. Wait, did I mention that the sky is blacker than black and its raining dead zombies? It wasn't as tramatic as the trip there but we did (seriously) bounce back into the air 3 times on the runway when we landed.

I promptly called my chauffer and demanded that she "get me the hell out of here."

I've Never Heard of this Happening to Anyone Else

I took Big Princess with me on a business trip to the coast for a little Mother-Daughter R&R. We stopped at a couple of offices before reaching the coast but we still couldn't check into our hotel for 3 hours.

What to do? Go to the beach?

We really didn't want to check into the hotel all dripping ocean water on the lobby floor so we decided to shop. And we shopped til we dropped. I bought boots, a purse, a dress for an upcoming wedding, earrings, headband, scarf, and a shirt. Big Princess bought me a bumper sticker that says "No I don't have a license to kill but I do have a learner's permit." I absolutely love it!!!

We had lunch at a lovely place on the beach. Finally checked into the hotel and spent some time at the beach and the hotel pool. After cleaning up, we met Big Princess' friend from college, Buddha Girl, for dinner. We had a great time and laughed so much I'm surprised I didn't pull a muscle. We ran to the grocery store after dinner for dental floss and encountered a man pushing his SUV and having his child steer. So we all three jumped out and told him to steer while we pushed. We must have been a sight, wearing shorts, a mini skirt, and Capri's. After getting his vehicle to a safe place, we ensured he had help coming before continuing our quest for dental floss.

The next morning I got up at 5:30 am and headed to the office for a meeting. Big Princess was going to stay behind and sleep. I finished up at the office and promised to return and take them to lunch before we headed home. I truck 20 minutes back to the hotel and call Big Princess to make sure she's up and packed. After I get to the room and start the process of dragging our 15 bags to the car, Big Princess says, "I have to poop, should I do it now before we leave?" Not wanting my coworkers to have to stand around and wait for her to take care of business at the office, I tell her "yeah, its a good idea to take care of that now." (What child asks you if its a good time to poop?)

She comes out of the bathroom looking a little afraid.

"What's wrong?"

"It won't flush."

"Lift the lid on the tank. Is there water in the tank?"

"No"

"Is it filling at all?"

"Yeah, real slow."

Ok, at this point I don't want to leave the room with a big log floating so I hand her the coffee pot and I grab the ice bucket. "Let's fill these and dump them in the tank to hurry the process." We fill it up and I tell her to "give it a try."

Success!!

"Great, hand me the coffee pot and put the lid back on the tank."

As I'm putting the stuff back I hear a crash, water flowing, Big Princess yelling "oh no, oh no."

"Tell me you didn't drop the lid and break it?"

"I dropped the lid in the tank and the bottom of the tank broke and fell on the floor," she yells as she tries to mop the flowing water with towels.

"Oh my god, you're kidding?" But as I look in the bathroom, I can see the broken porcelain on the floor amid the flowing water.

"Quick, reach down here and turn the water off."

"Which way?"

"Righty tighty, lefty Lucy. Let's get the hell out of here."

I'm Gonna Do It--Really!

After taking the older girls to the Tattoo Expo, I've come to the conclusion that I should do it. I looked all thru the books at the expo and couldn't find the "Man in the Moon" I had in mind. I googled and I googled but I couldn't find exactly what I want. I had a picture of the moon from the nursey rhyme "The Cow Jumped Over the Moon" in my head. Big Princess drew me this.

This could be "the" one (maybe minus the hat).

One Bad Ass Cat and One Cool Cat

Cali and Big Princess hangin' in the hood, watching the tube-izzle.

The "Nothing" List

"So what did you do this weekend?"

"Nothing."

I discovered that most people can't name 2 things they did over the weekend. They looked forward to the weekend for 5 days but come Monday, its like a vacuum and they have no idea how they spent their time.

Nothing ever happens. No, really... "Nothing" ever happens. Unless you spent the weekend in a coma, something happened.

My "Nothing" List from this Weekend:
Assembled a chaise lounge for the bedroom.
I worked out at the gym, twice.
Grocery shopped, twice.
Loved my man, twice.
Watched a movie with Big Princess.
Checked & answered work email.
Watched a documentary with little princess where an Egyptian Queen's name was finally discovered after 3,500 yrs.
I worshipped God.
Attended a wedding shower.
I took a nap.
Went to the tattoo expo with Big Princess & Adopted Princess.
I had pie with friends.
I made meatloaf.
Spread grass seed.
Sold 3 kittens to a woman from California.
I attempted to learn how to hula hoop from little princess.

Don't miss the details. Don't gloss over your life. That's what life is... details.

"So what did you do this life?"

"Hold on, let me grab my list."

Say it isn't so...

I get out of my car last night about 7 pm and I see 3 plastic grocery bags on the front porch... covered in flies. "Ick", I think to myself. "Wonder what that's all about."

As I approach the front door, the smell clues me in to what's in the bags. Poo! I pick up the bags and deposit them in the trash can, all the while wondering who or what is responsible for the contents.

Upon entering the house, all doubt of the contents of the bags was removed. If the smell hadn't clued me in, the various towels and wet spots confirmed my hypothsis. I proceded to the bedroom to see if Big Daddy was awake and wanted to tell me anything.

"Oh, hi. You are awake. Any chance Davie wasn't involved in whatever happened out there?" I ask him while pointing my thumb over my should in the direction of the rest of the house.

Big Daddy replies in a weary tone, "I'd like to tell you he's innocent but unfortunately, that's not the case."

"What the hell happened?" I groan while kicking off my shoes.

"He pooped, he peed and he vomitted."

"What?"

"Normally little princess is here and let's him out about 4 pm. I guess he couldn't hold it."

"He couldn't hold his vomit? Did he eat something bad or something he shouldn't have?"

"Here's what I think happened: Davie had to pee and when he could no longer hold it, he peed on the kitchen tile. He knew he was wrong and he began to pace. Back and forth, working himself up with dread. On one of his paces, his nervous bowels gave out and he crapped, not once but a semi runny pile across the carpet in the living room. Now he's freaking out, knowing he's in bbbiiiggg t r o u b l e!!! He's just standing there in the middle of the living room, looking at the mess when the bile in his throat starts to bubble up and he vomits the contents of his stomach."

"Ok, I'm with you. Then what happened?" I ask Big Daddy.

"Well, with the contents of his bladder and stomach relieved, he begins to feel much better so he lays down and takes a nap. The End."

"Did you kill him and bury him in the backyard?"

"I thought about it..."

Is it just me?

Have you ever, just absolutely, positively, just have to...cut your hair at work?



Maybe its the humidity, or maybe my hairspray just failed me. Either way, after sitting thru lunch with 3 co-workers and feeling like a sheep dog peering out thru my bangs, I went to the bathroom and gave myself a trim.

Now I'm itchy and feel like I'm covered in hair. That's what happens when you don't have the right tools for the job. Am I right guys or what? Can I get an Amen?

Labeled for your convenience

I received my first batch of artwork from Jelly Bean. I promised I'd put it on the fridge and send her a picture of the fridge. But you know, I'm betting she's smart enough to just get on the computer and view it here. She is, after all, 6 years old.

Funniest Thing I Said Outloud Today

Ten of us took a co-worker to lunch for her birthday today. We started discussing our semi-hostile take over of the 2nd floor in our building. We have the entire 4th floor and 80% of the 3rd floor. We just can't get Toyota to get out so we have resorted to infiltrating the 2nd floor.

This led to a discuss of why don't we just build our own building or just move to a building of our own. This led to talk of locations. Land is cheap on the outskirts on the west side of town but that would create long commutes for most of the employees. The someone had the brilliant idea that we should move to one of the buildings on the more centraly located Loop 410. I began to hyperventilate at the mere mention of only the worst traffic nightmare outside of Chicago.

"I'd rather get a hot sauce enema every day than have to commute on Loop 410."

There was some choking amongst the group and one person said shrimp shot out her nose. I just wanted to make sure they knew I had strong opinions on the matter.

Stalked by an Angel

Big Daddy has always been afraid that someone will stalk me because of my blogging. He asked me not to use names or identifying photos in an effort to thwart would be stalkers. He has also always been convinced that weirdos are lurking around every corner just waiting to steal the princesses. (I've always said that anyone stupid enough to take the princesses would promptly return them after a few minutes of them whining, bickering, farting, and begging for additional TV time.)

Well, finally after several years, I've had the pleasure of meeting my first stalker and he is totally adorable. We took him to dinner and bought him beer and Mexican food. We brought him home and let him play with the kittens. We even let him follow us to church and worshipped with him. Afterwards, we led him down a spider laden path and left him at the end. As a finale we feed him "What-A-Burger" and pointed him in the direction of the Alamo.

For his part, he was like the Uncle we hadn't seen in years. He entertained us, laughed at our silliness, charmed the princesses and made us want to be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Hebrews 13:2