This was prompted by Claudia posting the same thing today.
1. I took my mom to the bank, and heard Knights in White Satin. Not only can I remember when this song came out, I can remember when no self-respecting bank would play anything NEAR its style/genre.
2. I took a short nap the other day, and happened to look in the mirror right after I got up. The marks on my face weren't pillow creases, they were WRINKLES.
3. While getting up at 6 is still hard, staying up til 6 is impossible.
4. Mom's chin. Nuff said.
5. This is the first year i haven't gotten carded for buying beer at christmas time (i wear a santa hat that covers my grey).
6. Justin Timberlake? I have kids older than him. Sean Connery? now THERE'S a man!
7. I broke my finger when I was 14, and from then on, I had a weather finger (and yes, it's THAT finger. i like giving crazy aunt marge (the fill-in for mother nature) the finger). It would ache within 24 hours of an approaching storm/major weather change. Now? It never stops hurting, it just hurts MORE when those weather changes happen.
8. They're not hot flashes, they're power surges.
9. I can carry pencils around without using my hands.
10. More tolerance for teens. Yes, you're reading that right, i said MORE. was terribly impatient with the girls' and their friends. The boys? not so much.
And, just as an aside? I just turned 43 a couple of weeks back. At this age, my mother had a 5 year old, a 3 year old, and a 2 month old baby. How the HELL did she do it? And thinking of trying to deal with teens (and me and my baby brother were both incredibly strong-willed) from the age of 51 to 61? Unthinkable. she's 81 now, and i can only hope i'm half as tough as she is/was.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
coming home
I've been noodling around on Youtube, as I'm wont to do when I stay up way too late, and ran across a whole slew of military tribute videos/slide shows.
One that hit home was Ozzie Osbourne, and Coming Home.
My baby brother was in the first Iraqi war, Desert Storm. He left in September, 1990, after having only been in the Army for 6 months (total, including basic & AIT). He left a 19 year old boy. It changed him. He came home older, wiser, and sadder.
I'm not the praying type (even when I "had" religion, i didn't do it much), but in the months that he was gone, until he came back to the States in mid-April, I prayed every night that he'd come home. I put up yellow ribbons wherever I was (i ended up moving 3 times in that time period. it REALLY sucked). all i asked was "please let him come home."
He doesn't talk much about his time there (and I've found that a lot of them won't). He came back with some bad habits (he started smoking there, if only to relieve the boredom), and some new insights, and some health issues (don't let them kid you, Gulf Syndrome is real. he has small bits of neuropathy, foot fungus issues (still! and it's been 19 years!), and generally weird stuff).
He told me, when he got back to Ft. Bragg, and got in his car to drive home, on his first leave, that the last song that played as he drove down highway 75 to my parents' home was Ozzie and Coming Home. I think, at that point, he really was home, and it really was over. (apparently bloggers embedding feature is broke, so click the link)
Bob played his cards right. He stayed in the military for just over 8 years. Long enough to gain a small disability check (his knees will never be right), and long enough to get out of that inactive duty that has dragged so many people back into the military, who thought they'd gotten shut of it (i'm thinking of the woman who reported for duty with her kids with her, since there was no one else to take care of them), and not so long that he was obliged due to retirement (they nabbed my SIL on that one, but because she's developed some major health issues since she'd left, they couldn't send her overseas, so they put her on immigration control as a federal marshall (which she'd done before. the woman has had more military and military-type jobs than icare to thinkabout! (imagine a drill instructor with the last name of Payne. oy!)))
But that time will never leave him. He bears the scars inside and out. But he came home, which is so much more than some have done. And I'm grateful.
One that hit home was Ozzie Osbourne, and Coming Home.
My baby brother was in the first Iraqi war, Desert Storm. He left in September, 1990, after having only been in the Army for 6 months (total, including basic & AIT). He left a 19 year old boy. It changed him. He came home older, wiser, and sadder.
I'm not the praying type (even when I "had" religion, i didn't do it much), but in the months that he was gone, until he came back to the States in mid-April, I prayed every night that he'd come home. I put up yellow ribbons wherever I was (i ended up moving 3 times in that time period. it REALLY sucked). all i asked was "please let him come home."
He doesn't talk much about his time there (and I've found that a lot of them won't). He came back with some bad habits (he started smoking there, if only to relieve the boredom), and some new insights, and some health issues (don't let them kid you, Gulf Syndrome is real. he has small bits of neuropathy, foot fungus issues (still! and it's been 19 years!), and generally weird stuff).
He told me, when he got back to Ft. Bragg, and got in his car to drive home, on his first leave, that the last song that played as he drove down highway 75 to my parents' home was Ozzie and Coming Home. I think, at that point, he really was home, and it really was over. (apparently bloggers embedding feature is broke, so click the link)
Bob played his cards right. He stayed in the military for just over 8 years. Long enough to gain a small disability check (his knees will never be right), and long enough to get out of that inactive duty that has dragged so many people back into the military, who thought they'd gotten shut of it (i'm thinking of the woman who reported for duty with her kids with her, since there was no one else to take care of them), and not so long that he was obliged due to retirement (they nabbed my SIL on that one, but because she's developed some major health issues since she'd left, they couldn't send her overseas, so they put her on immigration control as a federal marshall (which she'd done before. the woman has had more military and military-type jobs than icare to thinkabout! (imagine a drill instructor with the last name of Payne. oy!)))
But that time will never leave him. He bears the scars inside and out. But he came home, which is so much more than some have done. And I'm grateful.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
amazing
so, apparently, someone is reading my blog from YEARS ago. apparently, even now, this person can't let go. won't go into all of it, but get a life, please?
Sunday, February 22, 2009
it's done
i keep coming back to my dad. you all know how much i miss him, every day, even though it's been almost 8 years since he died.
it was brought back to me again, tonight.
i'm watching the oscars, and they did they're usual "in memoriam" thing, and the last name to come up was Paul Newman. Paul Newman was my dad's age, almost exactly. I always connected the two. Somehow, as long as he was out there, kicking it, it was ok. But Paul Newman's gone, now. And, so, too, is my dad.
it was brought back to me again, tonight.
i'm watching the oscars, and they did they're usual "in memoriam" thing, and the last name to come up was Paul Newman. Paul Newman was my dad's age, almost exactly. I always connected the two. Somehow, as long as he was out there, kicking it, it was ok. But Paul Newman's gone, now. And, so, too, is my dad.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
going batty
the phone rang about 45 minutes ago. considering it was almost 9, i knew it had to be steph.
here's a little back story on steph. she can't STAND creepy-crawlie things. they had a mouse problem for a while, and one got caught in a trap by just its tail and one leg. her solution? put a paper box top with an iron on top to keep it contained until her sister got home to deal with it. not quite sure how she's my child, since creepy crawlies don't bother me in the slightest, except for the bite factor (i don't handle snakes because my hands are tender enough without throwing bites into it).
so, i answer the phone, and she's SQUEALING. not in a good way. "THERE'S A BAT IN MY BEDROOM!" "where are you?" "UNDER THE COVERS!" "well, dummy, get out!"
she hadn't been feeling good, and had been in bed since she'd gotten home from work. she was calling me from under the covers. she had been lightly dozing when she heard what she thought was a mouse, so she thumped on the floor to scare it away. instead she heard wings!
i finally talked her into getting out of the room, amidst much squealing, giggling, and half-crying (yes, she's that scared). i called the humane society/animal control, and the lady told me that steph was going to have to keep a visual on the bat until they got there. i told her that wasn't going to happen, because she'd practically had a panic attack while calling me. finally, i told the lady i'd go over and keep an eye on the bat until they got there. she told me that since this was considered an emergency, we would be next. however, the officers were already out on a call.
i called steph up and told her to tell me how much she loved me, because i was going to come over and keep an eye on the durned thing. i went over there, and discovered she'd turned the light off. "how am i supposed to watch the bat if the light's off?!?" i turned the light on, and she screamed "don't let it out!" "would you s hut up! that's why it's flying around, you've got it all worked up!"
i got her to shut up, and it actually decided to land on the window sill at the top, and there it stayed until the officers showed up. i decided i could watch it by opening the door every few seconds, and that worked. i honestly think the poor little thing had gotten worn out, and since the nuttiness had died down, it needed a nap, lol.
So, the officers show up. They're both GIRLS, and both around steph's age. she was thoroughly disgusted, lol. I opened the door enough for them to go in and get the poor little guy, and steph fled to the kitchen.
We had to sign paperwork waiving rabies testing, but steph is positive it never touched her, so the officers didn't seem concerned.
The whole thing took about 45 minutes, from her call to the little guy being deposited in the container (which was a commercial-sized sour cream container with holes cut in the top, and what looked to be a paper towel sticking through the lid).
i'm still just struck over how much of a puss steph was over the whole thing, lol.
here's a little back story on steph. she can't STAND creepy-crawlie things. they had a mouse problem for a while, and one got caught in a trap by just its tail and one leg. her solution? put a paper box top with an iron on top to keep it contained until her sister got home to deal with it. not quite sure how she's my child, since creepy crawlies don't bother me in the slightest, except for the bite factor (i don't handle snakes because my hands are tender enough without throwing bites into it).
so, i answer the phone, and she's SQUEALING. not in a good way. "THERE'S A BAT IN MY BEDROOM!" "where are you?" "UNDER THE COVERS!" "well, dummy, get out!"
she hadn't been feeling good, and had been in bed since she'd gotten home from work. she was calling me from under the covers. she had been lightly dozing when she heard what she thought was a mouse, so she thumped on the floor to scare it away. instead she heard wings!
i finally talked her into getting out of the room, amidst much squealing, giggling, and half-crying (yes, she's that scared). i called the humane society/animal control, and the lady told me that steph was going to have to keep a visual on the bat until they got there. i told her that wasn't going to happen, because she'd practically had a panic attack while calling me. finally, i told the lady i'd go over and keep an eye on the bat until they got there. she told me that since this was considered an emergency, we would be next. however, the officers were already out on a call.
i called steph up and told her to tell me how much she loved me, because i was going to come over and keep an eye on the durned thing. i went over there, and discovered she'd turned the light off. "how am i supposed to watch the bat if the light's off?!?" i turned the light on, and she screamed "don't let it out!" "would you s hut up! that's why it's flying around, you've got it all worked up!"
i got her to shut up, and it actually decided to land on the window sill at the top, and there it stayed until the officers showed up. i decided i could watch it by opening the door every few seconds, and that worked. i honestly think the poor little thing had gotten worn out, and since the nuttiness had died down, it needed a nap, lol.
So, the officers show up. They're both GIRLS, and both around steph's age. she was thoroughly disgusted, lol. I opened the door enough for them to go in and get the poor little guy, and steph fled to the kitchen.
We had to sign paperwork waiving rabies testing, but steph is positive it never touched her, so the officers didn't seem concerned.
The whole thing took about 45 minutes, from her call to the little guy being deposited in the container (which was a commercial-sized sour cream container with holes cut in the top, and what looked to be a paper towel sticking through the lid).
i'm still just struck over how much of a puss steph was over the whole thing, lol.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
amazing
i was unable to watch the inauguration today. i had to take my mother to the dermatologist to get a small thing on her forehead removed. (no biggie, i think it took longer for them to numb her forehead than it took to remove it). i tried to find a tv. walmart had theirs focused on their own internal network (big surprise there), and burger king just down the way didn't have one (some do, some don't).
so i sat in the car, and i listened. and i cried. not tears of sorrow. i don't know if i would call them tears of joy. tears of hope. such overwhelming emotion. bigger than me. bigger than all of us as individuals.
today is a milestone. not just for democrats. not just for african-americans. for all americans. "all men are created equal." indeed.
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