When I first started working at a power plant I noticed more motorcycles in the parking lot than cars. And these were not your grandpa’s bikes. They were mostly bad ass Harleys.
The guys riding them worked at the plant, and sported long hair, tattoos, leathers, and do-rags.
I admit to telling myself to never judge a book, but I also admit to doing just that.
At first, I was intimidated, but then I started getting to know my ‘brothers’ and found something astonishing.
They were not scary, they were sweet and smart.
The frantic OMG!! GUESS WHAT???!!! text from baby girl Saturday night gave me a start. I was thinking either a) she was pregnant or b) she won the lottery or c) I won the lottery and didn’t realize it.
After my equally frantic WHAT? WHAT? text back, she sent this:
“Paul Walker is DEAD! He was only 40!”
To which I replied:
“That would probably mean something if I had a clue who he was.”
To which she did not reply. No doubt shocked I didn’t have a clue who he was.
Then I asked Uncle Google, and he told me that Mr. Walker was an actor and he made movies about fast car. Not so ironically, he died in a fast car.
It’s tragic, but more tragic is his 15-yr. old daughter left behind and the 8-yr. old son of the driver who upon witnessing the accident apparently attempted to pull his daddy from the wreckage.
That’s fecked up. Big time.
In other news, several thousand (or maybe hundred, I’m too lazy to actually look it up) also died on that day in car crashes and while it’s tragic when anyone dies too soon, too young, let’s remember it’s just as tragic for the not-so-famous and their families.
Drive safe out there people, and remember that cars don’t behave IRL like you see in the movies. Not. At. All.
As an executive admin I had to relieve our receptionist at lunch from time to time when I worked for Major Retailer at their corporate headquarters.
This is how the phone exchanges went every time:
ME: Thank you for calling Major Retailer, how may I direct your call?
CALLER: Is Mr. Bigshot there?
ME: May I ask who’s calling?
CALLER: Mr. Biggershot
ME: One moment,please.
Then, I’d hit the “HOLD” button and everything that just took place would disappear from my brain.
Sometimes, I had to go back to the caller 2-3 times before I’d retain the information long enough to transfer the call to the right person.
Before too long, I was permanently relieved from receptionist relief.
I never have figured out why. My guess is they paid me too much to sit up at the front desk and take calls.
Ugh…no time to explain but last week:
I got the plague of a thousand deaths and am still trying to recover.
There was a major screw up at work, not by me but affecting my guys, and I’m still trying to recover.
I spent Sunday at a kid’s birthday party and my hearing is still trying to recover.
We got a dog on Saturday, and she doesn’t know how to dog yet, and I may never recover.
My oldest daughter loves Halloween.
No, really loves Halloween.
Like over-the-top loves Halloween.
She’s always been like that, too. And her husband? Oh, he’s just as much in love with Halloween as she is.
They take weeks to decorate their house, and win the ‘Best House’ award every year. On Halloween night, people from all over the county load up their cars and trucks, SUVs and mini-vans, all to come visit this one house. She has hundreds of visitors, and many repeat ‘customers’ throughout the night. We turn the entire garage (or yard, depending on the weather) into a haunted house. We’ll have “Jason”, a “Freddy” and always a chainsaw killer.
The whole family pitches in most Halloweens, and we all buy candy. I’ll bet we pass out $300 worth of it at least.
But, even before the trick-or-treating she has a party for all the kids in the neighborhood.
And I do mean all.
So, this before-party is something I’d never been asked to be part of until this year when everyone else bailed on her.
This should probably me my first clue, but I’m clue-less.
A week ago I agreed to help, and then jumped on Pinterest to find peanut-free treats.
You know how you can see something on Pinterest and think “I can do that..” only to have it not work out like the picture?
Well, at least not this time.
(I almost forgot to post the ‘before’ pic of my bat cookies)
So, these are buttery cookies filled with plum jam – you can use any red jam for this – that you then poke holes in to make it look like a vampire bit into them. Theoretically, the jam will run out the holes a bit and look like blood.
Voila!! Vampire Bat Bite Cookies!
And when that doesn’t happen, just enlarge one ‘tooth’ hole and add a little jam with a toothpick to make it look gory.
So, could I do it twice? I mean find another peanut-free treat to make for the party?
Apparently, I can.
These are sooooooo easy. Cut a big marshy-mallow in half (wet the knife, it’ll be easier), dunk the halves in water for a second and then drop into a bag of colored sugar and give it a shake. Top with a drop of green icing for the stem.
I figured two for two was good, so I wasn’t going to try again.
But my oldest is bold and brave….
And so are her kids!
And why do I keep hearing Lloyd Christmas shouting “I GOT WORMS!” in my head?
Yes, those perfectly creepy kids are two of my gran-chillun’ Their mama has instilled the love of all things Halloween-y in them.
I’m very proud.
Also, I want the little guy’s t-shirt.
So have a spook-tacular Halloween, and if you come to my daughter’s house I’m the witch with the long black hair and the creepy cackle.
Don’t get too close, I hear children go good with worms and bloody bats.
I’ll get you my pretty! And your little dog, too!
Last Tuesday my baby girl had to put her beagle to sleep.
It was the first puppy she and her husband had ever had together.
She was 11, and had kidney disease and an enlarged liver that was probably filled with tumors.
She had been sickly off and on for a year, but nothing really that major, until a few days before her last trip to the vet when the vomiting and diarrhea were constant and alarming. She also refused food and water most of the time.
My baby girl called me, her voice a sobbing tear-filled wail of pain.
“Mom, the vet said she’s dying and there’s nothing they can do.”
“Oh honey, I am SO sorry.”
“She said we should put her to sleep because she is in pain and feeling sickly. But, Mom she’s bouncing around the office and wagging her tail…and I cannot make this decision on my own…” her voice trailing off into sobs…”can you come get the baby? She’s been here like two hours already and she’s getting antsy. My husband is taking off work early to be here.”
“Sure.” I limped my swollen back up there and got her, brought her back to my house and fed her peanut butter and jelly. A couple of hours later I had to take her back to the vet and drop her as I was going for my MRI.
When I got to the vet, the tech was walking into the exam room carrying a taped up box which I knew carried the remains of the spunky little beagle.
My first grandpuppy was going out in a storage box, and they were taking her home to bury her in the backyard of the home she’d only lived in for a year.
My baby girl and her husband grabbed me and sobbed. I did, too.
I had no words. Not one.
There is nothing quite so painful as the loss of a loved one, and I don’t care if it’s “just” a dog, loss is loss.
So, Miss Jenny got the cancer and died on a Tuesday. They buried her in a shady spot in the yard she loved.
Forrest would be proud.
That’s all I have to say about that.