Monthly Archives: March 2016

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…about moi…

*clears throat, considers what to put out there on the Internets, decides she’s way too boring/paranoid to say anything other than what’s already here*

Ahem…

Uh….yeah…

Well, that got awkward in a hurry.

Sorry.

Here’s a picture of a cute puppy to make up for it.

cute puppy

You’re welcome.

 

Outbreak Monkey At the Hunger Games, Easter Edition

My family is not normal. Nothing we do is normal. No event is normal.  Hell, if we had a “normal” day, that’d be abnormal, so right in line.  Even our normal is weird.

Easter egg hunts are not normal at my house.  The grandchildren generally get along, the bigger kids help the little ones find eggs, and there is much rejoicing.

The parents, however, are another story.  It’s Hunger Games, Easter Egg Hunt at our house. There’s tripping, shoving, misdirection (“Holy shit, you just stepped in pile of dog poo!”), and general foolishness as each parent tries to gain an advantage for their offspring.

In short, they’re a bunch of miscreants.  I couldn’t be more proud.

This past Easter’s egg hunt was the same as all the others.  The only differences, for me, were 1) for once the yard wasn’t a mudpit as it had been pretty dry all week and 2) I had to watch from afar having smashed the ever-lovin’ shit out of my big toe that morning when I opened the back door to let the dog out and shoved the bottom of the door over the top of my toe.  It still hurts like a sonofa….

And then, the Outbreak Monkey arrived.

C’mon, tell me you have seen the scary movie “Outbreak” starring Dustin Hoffman and Renee Russo.  If not, get thee to a Red Box or Netflix, or something and watch it.

I’ll wait….

*whistles*

*bakes pie*

*builds storage shed*

*cures world hunger*

You back already? Good, now I can finish the story.

So, in my family the first person to get sick with whatever is the one we call the Outbreak Monkey.  This time, it was my 8-yr. old granddaughter and our first clue was the text her mother sent as they were driving home:

“Aaaand…we have pukage in the van!! AWESOME!”

At 1:00 a.m. the next morning, the poor baby was still puking in her sleep, no less.  My daughter called me asking for the magical potion I keep to stop pukages, so instead of sleeping at 1:00 a.m. I was dispensing wizardry in the hopes my sweet granddaughter would stop the pukies.  She did, and there was much rejoicing in the land…

….until this morning, when my daughter texted me again and said her other daughter has it now…

We had FIFTEEN people at our house on Easter Sunday.  Two are sick, that makes thirteen more to go…except I think I had it already.  I think it’s the nasty new norovirus that has been going around and which I got right after Christmas.

At least I hope that’s what this is.

Or, if my daughter is right – as she said in a follow-up text this morning – it only affects kids 8 and under, or as she put it “the very geriatric, like you Mom”.

Age has its advantages.

 

Rant in the Feels

I’m big into nostalgia.

Only, not my nostalgia.

I’m big into the nostalgia of times I never encountered, and times when the things that make you go SQUEE! with delight were past me and thoroughly engulfed my children. The latter nostalgic times are embraced, loved, fondled, and homaged by a terrifically gifted writer (and very young man..okay, I added the “very” part because old) by the name of Matt at his blog Dinosaur Dracula.

Matt’s take on everything from movies to food is a reminder that oftentimes things are much sweeter looking back.

For the things that take me back back, to a time I never encountered but wished I had, I read a Reader’s Digest publication called “Reminisce”.  It’s full of warm and wonderful recollections of times long gone, often told by the people who lived them. I have always said I was born of the wrong time, and when I read the magazine I feel it’s true.

But, not for the nostalgic way things were when women stayed home and baked bread, or washed clothes in a tub.

No, I’m too lazy to go back to those times.

What I miss is the simplicity of everyday life.  The lines between right and wrong were clear and definite. Home, family, children, marriage..these were sacred trusts.

Anymore, I don’t know what’s sacred except maybe the love of self.  With twitter pics of a naked Kardashian-West, and the glorifying of things I believe to be so wrong – like Caitlin Jenner – I long for a time when I wasn’t affronted on all fronts by the out in fronts.

Don’t misread…I am not totally judging, okay maybe I am judging a little bit, but mostly I’m saying I don’t care that Kim has “..nothing to wear..” or that Caitlin used to be Bruce.

I DON’T CARE, and I don’t want to celebrate that shit or any of the other piles of shit I’m constantly forced to see.  I also don’t want to be confronted with it every time I turn on the television, radio, open up Facebook (and thank the gods I don’t use Twitter other than to auto-send a new post, because I do not understand that at all..not one bit), or simply exist in this world.