Monthly Archives: November 2011

My Car Has Been Stolen!

….”or maybe…not.”

These are not the words a mother wants to hear at 2AM from a daughter, barely over 21, who has gone out for a night out on the town in her new (used) car.

Nonetheless, as I struggled to shake the sleep from my head that’s what my daughter was breathlessly telling me over the phone.

“Where are you?” I asked.

“I don’t know.  We are downtown somewhere.”

“Downtown?  As in downtown Dallas??”


“What the—“ I stopped myself.  Why she was in Dallas in the middle of the night was a question that would have to wait for an answer.  Right now, I needed to backtrack a bit to figure out what had happened to her new car.

“So, what happened?”

“Well, we parked near the club and went inside.  When we came back out my car was gone!”

“Oh geez! You just got that car two days ago and someone stole it already?”


“What do you mean ‘maybe not’?”

“Well, when I first called you I thought it had been stolen but Buffy* says there was a big sign painted on the wall right where we parked that said something about ‘no parking’ and ‘violators will be towed’.”


I rubbed my brow. “And you didn’t see it??”

“Well, no…maybe….I don’t remember.”


“So where are you now?”

“I don’t know, Mom.  We walked for a while and then these two Marines met us on the street and they’ve been staying with us until we could find a phone.”

(this was in the days before cell phones and thank God for the US Marines!)

“They’re waiting outside this diner I’m in and Mom….I’m the only white person in here.”

As she said the last part of that sentence I cringed and the background din all but disappeared.

“Biffy*!  Look, I know the area you are in.  You don’t want to stay there**.  How far are you from where you parked?”

“A couple of blocks.”

“Okay, go back there with the Marines and get the phone number to the tow company.  Call them and see if they have your car.”


“Call me once you get the information and update me on what’s going on.”


I hung up the phone and didn’t breathe for nearly an hour.

The phone rang and I jumped to get it.


“Okay, everything’s cool.  I got the car back, but it cost me $250 and because I didn’t have the new registration yet they almost didn’t give it to me! The insurance card, though, had it on there so that worked.  And, Mom, the nice Marines stayed with us until they got us to the tow yard.  They even paid for the cab! Such nice guys..and cute too!”

I was too relieved to be irritated by the fact that she didn’t grasp the severity of the situation and had chosen to focus on the hottie factor of the young men to whom I remain indebted.

Two hours later, the sun rising over the horizon, my daughter pulled into the driveway.

I hadn’t slept since the first call and was having coffee when she walked in.

“I’ve never been so glad to be home.” She said as she hugged me hard.

I don’t think I ever appreciated a hug more, either.



*the names have been changed to protect the stupid

**and, no not because it’s a black neighborhood – it’s not – but, because the area is high crime

What a 3-yr. Old Boy is Most Proud Of

It might surprise you to learn this, but even a 3-yr. old can sense his impending greatness.

Well, at least my 3-yr. old grandson can.

It was a hot Saturday morning and we’d attended my 6-yr. old granddaughter’s soccer game in the morning.  Right after the game we decided to take her and her 3-yr. old brother out to get some ice cream.

Their parents went on back to the house, no doubt thrilled to have an hour to themselves.

We took the kids back home after cleaning up the ice cream – most of it had melted and been spread all over them, especially the 3-yr. old – and they excitedly told us about going out back to get into the pool and go swimming.

It’s not a big pool.  It’s a kiddie pool, so by “swimming” they actually mean wading around in knee-deep water, splashing each other and passersby.

As they were changing into their bathing suits, our 3-yr. old grandson came running into the living room buck naked, and stood there proudly wiggling his wee-wee for all to see.

“My pee-pee! It gots bigger and bigger and BIGGER!” He exclaimed.

My husband replied, “Yes, and you will make some girl very happy some day.” without missing a beat. 

Dad giggled and Mom blushed.


So, Yeah I’m Lazy…

….I just spent the bulk of the last four days in jammies…

No, I wasn’t sick.

I was on a little stay-cation, and the only interruption to the jammie routine was Thanksgiving.

It’s also the reason I didn’t have the energy to get out of the jammies on Friday.

Which turned into Saturday and it got cold and rainy here, so jammies seemed perfect.

By Sunday I was all like why bother?

And then Monday happened and it’s back to the routine. 

Jeans, work boots and a sweatshirt.

Sigh…I miss my jammies.

How was your Thanksgiving holiday?

PC Be Damned

If I laugh to tears, then you better believe I’m sharing.

This, my friends, is golden wrapped in awesomesauce…….

Hey, Look! It’s a Turkey!

Yeah, most bloggers will take this time to tell you all how thankful they are or tell you to tell them how thankful you are or…

…wait, I’m dizzy now.

Where was I?

Oh yes, the thankful part of Thanksgiving.  And we all know what put the “thank” in Thanksgiving, don’t we?

Food and football, though not necessarily in that order.

I have grown kids and even though they are good cooks I’m still in charge of the turkey’s share of cooking on Thanksgiving.   I start days early, so that on the big day I’m not utterly exhausted and totally not hungry by the time we eat.

I went to the store the other day to get a fresh turkey.  I hate buying frozen turkeys, mostly because I consistently forget to put them in the fridge to thaw four days ahead of time and am frantically running hot water over it at 7:00 on Thanksgiving morning hoping to get it thawed in time to put it in the oven by noon.  We are late dinner eaters, and by late I mean 5:00 p.m.  After years of that stress I decided to bite the bullet and pay extra for a fresh turkey.  I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner.  Now, I have ample time to fret over the Cool Whip I forgot to get out of the freezer until right before pie time.

A little kitchen-helper tip: Don’t try to thaw Cool Whip in the microwave….unless you like your whipped cream to be the consistency of  milk.

Yes, I know they make it in cans and yes I tried those too.  The first few times there was no propellant in the can when I got it home.  That’s when I learned about kids using the gas in there to get high..and really, who was the first kid to grab a can of whipped cream and say, “Hey, y’all wanna get high?”  I mean, who thinks of these things.   I know they’ve changed the propellant, but now I just grab the Cool Whip out of habit.  I’m old, it’s hard to change these things.

Where was I going with this?

Oh, right.  I was looking at the fresh turkeys in the store when an elderly gentleman tugged on my sleeve.  He silently pointed to a few of the fresh turkeys and looking at me raised an eyebrow.

“Turkeys, yes.” I said in a half-hearted attempt to perhaps explain what he was looking at to him.  He seemed confused, and worse, I thought he was incapable of speaking. 

Suddenly, a light seemed to go off in his eyes.

“Oh my goodness! I thought you were my wife!”

I laughed as his real wife came up to us.

“Is he bugging you?” she asked.

“Oh, no but apparently we look alike.” I replied, even though we looked nothing alike.

As I walked away I heard her mumble something and he replied, “I thought it was you! I really did!”

So, Happy Thanksgiving, y’all!  And remember fellas, when you are turkey shopping don’t be tugging on another woman’s sleeve.

Just sayin’.

So I Was Totally…

….cruisin’ the ‘Net workin’ hard, when I stumbled across this site….

I lost an hour.

I’m betting you will too. At least an hour, maybe more.

I’ve also got the hiccups from laughing while not laughing so no one will know how hard I’m working.


It Was a Trip, Fall and Crash…

 …down memory lane Sunday.

We have to replace our heating/cooling system. Since we live in Texas and have no basement our air handler is in the attic. We had to clean a portion of the attic Sunday in order to make room for the crew to come in and do the work today.

We threw away 387 empty boxes.

Okay, I may be exaggerating a wee bit. But, it was definitely over 300 empty boxes that got tossed in the trash.

Who needs that many empty boxes? No one, that’s who.

Among the other boxes, the not empty ones, was a box filled with tiny dresses from my daughters’ childhoods.

Apparently I didn’t save anything from the boys. I know why. They tore their stuff up. Sometimes literally.

So, there I sat amidst piles of trash staring at tiny rosettes, lace, velvet and bows. I smiled and I cried, sometimes at the same time, as I took each little dress out and held it close to me.

I remembered Christmases, Easters and birthday celebrations with my girls dressed up like little princesses twirling around the room.

“Am I pretty?” they’d ask.

No, my darlings.

Then as now, you are beautiful.

Inside and out.

This One Definitely…

….falls under the “too much information” category…



On the other hand, it’s kinda sad that they are having these issues.

Maybe they need to look into the PosTVac system? 




…first..umm…eww…and now, for a re-gurge of the week!

On Monday, I got to talk about din-uh-saws.

Tuesday brought a revelation about a new chemical weapon.

On Wednesday I revealed a family secret and the reason my oldest child should hate me.

Thursday I revealed another family secret and the reason why my Grandpa was a liar.

On Friday I brought you some practical parenting advice. Finally, someone who makes sense.

Go on out and have a fabulous weekend!

If You Are A Parent, Or Know A Parent of A Toddler…

….then this is for you…

You’re welcome.