My sister will never go to hell - part II

My last post started the saga of my sisters big heart and her lousy son-in-law, also known as the Sphincter. I've calmed down a bit, but would still enjoy giving him a poke in the eye.



So, here's the bit that upsets me. He's been claiming he can't find a job because he can't read or write and has a severe case of dyslexia. So who wrote the note? I only found one word that was either a misspelling or another one of his "Wicken" things we can't understand. Not one word had a character that was written backwards. It was written in clear, comprehensive sentences. It was filled with his own incomprehensible stupidity, but it was clearly not written by the dyslexic illiterate he claims to be. It was not the handwriting of my wayward niece, so who wrote the note? I can only conclude it was written by the Sphincter himself.

So what about my Niece? What level of responsibility does she hold? I say all of it. I rest the entire situation on her shoulders. She had and still has the power to stop her sphincter husbands behavior and chooses not to. She fueled the fire by vomiting her spleen on her mother while holed up in her room with him.



She had an ear, attached to a shpincter, that would hang on her every word. She has been a spoiled, nasty little brat her entire life and has not changed. She spies the weakness in her mother others see as gentility and kindness, and she attacks it. She is contrary to her mother and has no plans to change it.

What about my sisters husband? Why didn't he give the little punks a smack down? Why do you think my niece is such a brat? He allows all levels of disrespect toward my sister because he doesn't like confrontation and he could never reprimand his little princess. He's a belly-footed mullusk. Spineless and cowardly.


Oh, geez. There I go again with the venom. Sorry you had to hear that.

I'm thankful I'm not as nice, it makes for a peaceful and harmonious life. So, will I go to hell because I'm willing to give a smack down when it's needed? Surely not.



If I do go to hell, I'll poke him in the eye when I find him.

My Sister will never go to hell - part I

My sister lives in Utah in a simple little house perched on the top of a hill. She shares her spacious property with:



a) 9 horses (only a few of which are hers, the others were dumped on her by an ailing neighbor who promised to pay for their expensive care, but hasn't)



b) 7 or 8 cats (most of which she has because her children move back home and don't seem to take the cats with them when they move back out).



c) 3 or 4 dogs (of which two belong to other people, one of which she rescued when the owner moved and locked up the dog in a house and left him to die there. It was discovered by a realtor weeks later still alive. The owner was her son-in-laws sister. She's a winner.)



d) her son, husband, and until recently, her youngest daughter, son-in-law, and grandson.



Though she's going broke to support them all and her house is only two bedrooms she never complains.



My sister has a heart of gold. She's way too nice for her own good. I try to encourage her to be more like me, but she refuses because she doesn't want to go to hell.



I don't think I'm going to hell, but compared to her, I'm more likely to go than she is. I mean I might say things like "your son-in-laws birth certificate was an apology from the condom company" but that shouldn't send me to hell, should it?



She supported her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson in her home for the first year of her grandson's life. The sphincter (son-in-law) claimed to be unable to read or write, and claimed a severe case of dyslexia and was incapable of reading a job application and certainly wasn't able to read the classified section. Blah, blah, blah. Excuses, excuses.


Then, without a word, the sphincter packed them up and moved to San Francisco. Not so much as a thank you or "F" you, they just left, without notice. The sphincter treated my sister with rudeness and malice during his sponging and never once had the courtesy of taking out the trash, let alone get a job.



Then, just as predicted, they called her and begged to return. Again, she's way too nice. Had it been me, the answer would have been a resounding NO! But she took them in again, with the full understanding they must both get jobs.



Before their retrun, he, the sphincter, had her daughter ask if his Nephew could come visit for a week before summers end, and like the good hearted lady she is, she said yes, believing at least one of them would have a job and help pay the nephews way as well as their own.



Can you see it coming?



Wait for it....



They moved in, never sought jobs, brought the nephew who stayed a month, never helped out around the house, displayed rude and resentful behavior, then after sucking the life out of my sister, and using up her last nickel, they moved again.



This time, the sphincter left a Thank You note. It read something like this:



1) You're a mean and rude bitch. (This was because she asked him to not pour coffee until it was finished brewing. Yeah, she's pretty mean.)



2) I'm placing you on 'probation' until your attitude changes. You will not be allowed to see my son for at least a year. (um, I thought he belonged to his wife too, my mistake.)



3) You and your son belong to the Keeper. (He claims to be a follower of Wicken, what ever that is. My sister called a Wicken chapter found on the Internet to ask what that meant. She was told the "Keeper" is in reference to Satanism and they do not subscribe to that line of thought.)



4) Your son is lazy. (That's rich!)



There's more to the appalling letter, but I don't have that calm and peaceful nature my sister does. If I continued to list the points of his "thank you" note, I might be compelled to track him down and poke him in the eye!



Whooh, that was an unleashing of anger, sorry. ...I'm better now.

Inside out and Backwards

The Lollygagger is usually dressed in the morning by her daddy. He makes a great mommy. Oh, he's a man's man alright, but he is also quite comfortable having taken on many of the roles and obligations I seem to be unable to perform. You see, I work and must rise early enough to fight the commute everyday, like most of California.

However, I am much luckier than most moms. My husband is retired from the Army. We own two business, both of which he is primarily responsible for. He has the luxury of setting his own hours which, ensures the Lollygagger can sleep in if she wants, she can attend extracurricular activities at will, and she gets home with enough time to play outside and explore her world. He's a great man and is generous with the Lollygagger to a fault.

So, now that I've given the background on how much he does for her and with her, let me now fill you in on the level of proficiency he has in the area of dressing her and doing her hair.

The hair is usually brushed and tied in a pony tail with half of it falling out before she leaves the room. That's alright, it got brushed and I 'm good with that. If I get hold of her hair and braid it, it's even better. Why? Because he will leave the braid in her hair the next day too without ever having to brush it. He figures that's good enough. By the end of the day, she looks like a disheveled mess.

Do I complain? NO WAY. I know a good thing when I see it. I keep my mouth shut.

Then there's the clothing thing.

The other day he dressed her in a cute silky blouse that has a shell sewn in. I went to braid her long plat of hair and noticed the blouse didn't look right. On closer examination I realized it was unbuttoned, inside out, and backwards. Not to mention she had only one arm through the arm hole of the shell which was somehow on the inside of the inside out blouse.

Ya got all that?

Not wanting to hurt his feelings and point out this obvious inadequacy in his role as mommy, I kept my mouth shut and fixed the problem.

Last night, however, I had to say something. It was too funny not to. Not about the inside out and backward blouse, but about the tiny Cinderella undies he dressed her in that morning. I can't imagine how he could have thought they were on right, or why she didn't complain about it straight away, but this time he crossed a line I just couldn't shut up about.

Have you ever put on a pair of panties with the leg opening on your waist? No? Well, apparently some people do and can live with it just fine. Not me. If I had a constricting leg hole strangling my lower abdomen all day long, and riding up only one half of my butt, I think I'd go mad.

The Lollygagger lived with this the entire day and came home picking her seat for a full hour before complaining about it.

I couldn't stop laughing. I'm sorry to say, but it's true. I laughed my ass off at the plight of my baby with her too tight panties at the waist and the left side riding up the crack. I had tears in my eyes I was laughing so hard.

Really, I would have probably kept my mouth shut, but he came in to see what all the belly laughing was about. When I showed him, he was horrified... for about a second. He was soon laughing too and apologetic for having failed so miserably in such a critical aspect of his mothering. He told the Lollygagger he would be happy to do something to make up for her suffering. In his mind, he was thinking she may want to blow bubbles outside, or run to the lake to feed the ducks.

Without a word the Lollygagger went upstairs and returned with another pair of undies, handed them to him and said through a smile "here, you try it for a while."

She's too diabolical for her own good.

Signs of Mayberry

Our little Mayberry town is filled with the best signs I've ever seen.

They are simple, not out landish or over the top in any way. They are modest and understated.

Our town has a sign for everything. Take this one for example. No one lives in this "Haven" but the house has a sign declairing it's ownership.

And this one. Our town does have Bears, but not on the Eastern part of town, and I'm pretty sure there are no Bears living in this house. Although, it has been known to entertain little girls and ladies, all with golden hair. Did Goldielocks have a last name? Was it Coeler?

Then, we have the sign for the Church. Like I said. Understated. No prideful neon sign here. No siree. Just a modest, simple, dull sign.

On occasion, we find signs of the store bought variety. These two have been here a while, but they still serve their purpose. Of all the signs in our little Mayberry town, this one is my favorite. This sign captures the essence and flavor of our life here in this small town. The businesses in our town don't have electric signs, they have the good 'ol fashioned shingle. And, sometimes those shingles are nailed to trees. And, sometimes those shingles are just not enough, thus requireing a sandwich board sign to help spread the word... CLOSED. I could go on and on about the signs in my town, but someone might hang a sign like this one on me. I love the signs of our Mayberry town.

Sleeping Trees

Recently, on her daily trek to Kindergarten, the Lollygagger asked her daddy "Do trees lay down and sleep at night?"
What a wonder the world is to a small child.

In his explanation, the Lollygagger's daddy expressed the goodness of trees and the mirice they are. It brings to mind the poem by Alfred Joyce Kilmer:

"What a magnificent thing a tree is! A tiny seed falls into the lap of God’s earth; it rests its sleepy cheek on earth’s warm bosom and goes to sleep. After a time of slumber, it awakens and new life is birthed. The new world of light and rain and singing birds calls it to rise toward the sun. Programmed by its Maker, it feels and finds everything it needs; it gathers food from the dirt, nourishment from the rocks, drink from the earth’s streams and rain-soaked earth. It miraculously weaves each ray of sunshine until its coat is a living green. It bows and bends to the winds and storms; it stretches toward the rising sun; it raises its branches to the praise of its Creator; it spreads them out to bless the earth; it invites birds and animals to rest and raise their young among its boughs." ~Alfred Joyce Kilmer

The Lollygagger loves the trees when they are covered in snow. She loves the trees when they are bare and leafless. She loves the trees when they are filled with their canopy of blessings.

...and she worries about them.

"Mommy, are the trees cold?"

"Daddy, do the trees lay down and sleep at night?"

We have so many beautiful trees in our little Mayberry town, yet it's easy to forget how wonderful they are. So, this post is for the Evergreens and for the trees in our canyon loosing their leaves in preparation of winter.

We look forward to thier blessings next year.

The Stepford Stylists

Today, I went to a local salon to rid myself of the mass of straw I've been calling "hair" for the past year.

Upon entering this new and as yet, untested salon, I was stunned to see seven stylist, all with platinum blond hair of varying degrees and styles. While the styles in themselves look spectacular, like super-model hair, the color was truly hideous. It was as if they were once hard-core goth-girls, gone the way of Blondie; only not actually blond, more like silvery-grey.

To complete the look, each of them wore the thick eyeliner that looked like they had recently been beaten, and five inch platform-type heels, that left them with the appearance of standing on their toes.

What rational human would choose to stand in such torturous and self denigrating foot ware all day long? Evaluating if this place might turn me into a Stepford drown or not, I opted to be a thrill seeker and risk my straw for the chance of getting a good style allowing me to call it "hair". To my surprise, the pay off was what I had hoped for.

It's true, no one can style my hair the way I like, but all-in-all, I walked out looking and feeling great.

...until...

The Santa Ana winds kicked up and whipped my hair back into a hideous mass of straw.

Damn -

Sweet things Lollygaggers Daddy does

Our Lollygagger goes to school down the mountain, which means we drive through the canyon everyday.
The Lollygagger plays the Flower game during our long drive, shouting out the different colors of flowers she can see from the car window.

When she rides home with her daddy, he often stops to cut a few flowers for her. She comes home feeling like a princess, waving a fist of wild flowers and asking for a vase to put them in.

This simple act of love and consideration from her daddy has forever secured his place in her heart.

The Fortune Cookie

Chinese food is a weekly staple at our house. I adore the Won Tons, the Lollygagger's daddy enjoys the noodles, and the Lollygagger loves the Fortune cookies. She will gladly plow through her dinner of Chow Mien, Moo-Shu Chicken, and Sweet and Sour Pork for the pay off of Fortune cookies at the end of it all.

She hoards the cookies and will dole them out herself when she is sure the rest of us have finished every drop of our perspective meals.

She opens the package and removes her cookie as gently as possible, followed by the ceremonial cracking of the cookie.

She really believes these fortunes are written my a magical fortune teller who knew she would pick this precise cookie and wrote this fortune expressly for her.

She's fascinated not only by the fortune, but also by the series of numbers at the bottom. "What are these numbers momma, is this how rich I'll be someday?"

ahhhhhh....... sure, honey.

I read her fortune, as usual, and she informs me that she's already stepped on the soil of two countries, and should finish stepping on the rest of them before she's old, like me.

Damn.

Christmas every day at home

Every day when we come home we attack the mail with a sense of urgency. Who knows why, but we do.

The Lollygagger has joined the game of tearing into the mail, no matter what it is, and claiming the prize inside.
The thrill of opening the mail, is her own little Christmas she gets to have every day. Look at the level of focus and concentration she exerts in her efforts.

When she notices that momma is still taking pictures of her ritual, she pauses and says "what?"

The envelope torn to bits, she proudly whips out and unfolds its contents revealing an Investment update, which she attempts to disseminate but quickly hands it up to momma and says, "what does all this mean"?

I tell her honestly, it's all written in Chinese and I don't read Chinese. So, she turns it over to her daddy, who says it's actually written in German, and he will have to figure out what it all means tomorrow.

The best part of the entire exchange was, she responded with "oh" and left to play a game of Go Fish with the cat.

I love the complexity and the simplicity of my Lollygagger.

First Day of Kindergarten

This past Tuesday was the first day of Kindergarten for the Lollygagger. Some of her preschool friends have joined her in her class, while some others have been farmed out to another class.

It was my hope The Lollygagger would meet another little boy who would become her new BFF. She had her heart broken in her preschool year by Matthew. They were to marry, after all, and he broke her heart by running off with another girl. She pined all summer.

Then she got the Thank You card from another boy who's birthday party she attended. The closing said "Love Ben." She thought that meant he actually loved her. She was on track to forget all about the first guy, what's-his-name. But it was destined to end.

While in Summer Camp, she met a new boy, Brenden. Brenden, it turns out is also attending the same karate dojo, and they see each other twice a week in the evenings as well as at school. He's a year older, so they only see each other on the playground.

Turns out the same little girl who Matthew ran off with at the end of last year is in her class. She spotted The Lollygagger playing with her newest BFF, Brenden, and moved in for the kill. Will Brenden take the bait? Will he turn into another Matthew? Will the Lollygagger idelly sit by and watch it all happen again or will she pull out the hair of the little boy-steeling "meanie" before she can steel Brenden away?

I thought this stuff started in High School. How is it such drama happens in Kindergarten?

Stay tuned.

The Blue Doggie

The Lollygagger has a thing for balloons. Well, books too, but she runs all over the place with a balloon.

Recently, she bought a pack of those balloons that you can twist into crazy flowers or animals. The Lollygaggers daddy was talked into collapsing his lungs to get a few blown up and managed to fill a long blue balloon.

Then it was my turn.

She hands it to me and told me to please make "something" out of the balloon.

...Ah, what? Make something?

Alright, I'll give it the 'ol college try.

So, I started to twist the poor thing here and there, making no progress at all. Then suddenly, I could see a pattern. I untwisted in a few places and tried again.
The next thing I knew I made this blue dog.

Who knew I had such a talent? I couldn't do it again if I tried everyday for a million years.

It lasted for about 5 minutes, then it broke.

Any guesses who broke it?Me. Me and my clumsy self. It runs in the family; we're all clumsy.

Raspberry Preserves

I'm a thrillseeker. I'll try most anything once, so long as it doesn't involve water, fire, or snot. The water and fire are self explanitory, the snot on the other hand, well it's just gross.

Oh, and high places. I don't care for heights.

Last week I took my Lollygagger and my mother to pick Raspberries. I couldn't possibly eat the amount of Raspberries we came home with, so I decided to step out and do something I've never tried before.

I canned Raspberry Preserves.

... no, really. I did.

It was The Pioneer Woman who inspired me to try it. She made it seem so simple. Her step-by-step picture tutorial looked something like this, but with actual information on how to do it.

So, how did it turn out? Not that great.

The first batch was runny, so I labled it Raspberry Syrup. Clever, eh? The next batch seemed to be better, so I felt validated in using the word Preserves on the label.

All-in-all, it was a good experience and I will do it again as soon as I can.

I even discovered a recipe for Banana Preserves. Could be good; or turn out to be the texture of snot.

Which would just be gross.

Toys, Toys, everywhere Toys

The Lollygagger has a storage problem. She is limited on space for all of her toys. She has toys stuffed in her book case, next to her book case, in a corner beside the couch, in her closet, in and behind her bed.

She's got toys everywhere.

I step on them, trip on them, and have fallen over them.

We've tried to clean things up a bit by packing up some of the toys she's outgrown, but she always finds them in the garage and must, simply must, play with them.

So, we've recently tried another tact. We plan to donate them to other little girls who don't have any toys to play with. She likes this idea, and has started to make some choices of what she will give away, and what she will save for a rainy day.

She's well on her way to having a clean corner for her toys and reclaiming her bookshelf.

Hello Kitty Sandals

My darling Lolygagger has a favorite pair of sandals she has worn everyday this summer. It's a shame I bothered to buy her other pairs of sandals I foolishly thought she would equally enjoy. That was a true waste of money.

The thing is, she has never worn a pair of shoes or sandals with such frequency before. This is the first time she has ever actually worn out a pair of anything; shoes, sandals, pants, shirts, dresses, hats, you name it.

She usually out grows her clothing and shoes long before she can wear them out, which is why I find this so amusing.

What good mother would allow her Lollygagger to continue wearing such a raggedy pair of shoes? I guess I'd have to raise my hand to that question. What could I do? She loves them. Loves, loves, loves them.

Maybe it's the color, or the Hello Kitty Charm on the top, or the little heel. It's anyone's guess why she feels this way about her sandals.

So I wait. I wait for the weather to change. I wait for the snow to fall. I wait for her toes to turn blue with cold. I wait. And, when the timing is right, I will bury them deeeeep into the garbage can.

Then, when she notices they're missing I will feign ignorance and set out immediately to find another pair. A pair that will fit her ever growing feet and with hope, last the entire summer next year.

These shoes are just one more little thing that makes her happy.

Irony or burocrocy?

At my work place, we struggle to get Housekeeping into our training rooms to clean. I've been working in the same training rooms for a year and have never had the benefit of a clean room.

We've heard it all: We don't have a key, so can't clean. We don't want to be accused of a stealing a computer. We only clean the Pharmacy, so can't help you. Excuse, excuse, excuse.

Our manager, who is terrific at getting people to do the right thing, placed a work order to get the training rooms cleaned. Never happened.

A co-trainer broke down and called the Housekeeping team this morning and demanded someone come to the training room and clean it.

... so, someone came to the training room.

She called her manager, who called her manager, who promised to get someone out to clean the training rooms.

So, long story short, someone from Housekeeping came out. She has yet to clean anything, but managed to leave a wadded paper towel on our counter for one of us to throw away.

...hmmmm.

Irony, bureaucracy, or both?