Remarkable people

Dear Peruser,
I know some of the most remarkable people and yet if I were to pass them on a city street I wouldn't recognise them. I Belong to an email list that really saved my life when I worked with the idiots at the library. When my co workers got to me I'd run to the list and ther goings on always managed to make me smile. SOmetimes it made me mad and steam would come shooting out of my ears, but it always diverted me AND when I was going through a blue period I was suddenly getting raks (Randoms Acts of Kindness) nearly every day that made me feel like a princess.

When I first joined the list they were holding a fling. I had no idea what a fling was and didn't participate. I discovered after some reading that one of our list members mobile scooter thingie (named Rubberta.. the scooter not the list member) had been creamed by a motorist and a new scooter was needed immediately. The fling was basicly a raffle. Anyone and it seemed everyone donated goodies and then bought raffle tickets to win those goodies. A good time was held by all AND Rubberta II was purchased.

I have no idea how long ago that was but every now and again, whenit is really needed we have another fling and this time I do participate. We now have a list member in dire circumstances and in a moment another fling is on. People are already pledging prizes, others want to send cards not only to the list member, who is paralysed and whose husband just died but also her daughter and sister who are dealing with all of this. In fact the sister was just fired from her job because she took family sick leave to be with her sister.

What I still find the most amazing, despite my decade or more on the list is how these people care for each other. It's not a list, it's a family. We share highs and lows and ins and outs. We know each other without ever having to meet each other and the rare times we do meet there is laughter and happiness and presents all around. And we talk and talk and talk, girlfirends catching up. And then, when I think that there is no more goodness and kindness left in the world, these angels flock together and show me how wrong I am. I consider myself blessed.
Love. ---Sharon---

Things are topsy turvy

Dear Peruser,
I'm back with the latest update on the men in my life. Human and Canine that is. Oddly the men and the dogs are all male and the cats and I, female. I am female despite the fact I haven't worn a dress since my mother's funeral, which means luckily for me no pantyhose that, no matter what size I buy I always end up with shop lifting panty hose. You know the kind. The patny hose whose crotch creeps ever southward until the panty part is someplace around your knees and you could carry two bowling balls, one bag of groceries and a small dog. But I digress.

The HUsband and I went out to lunch. Working and living together we sometimes run out of things to talk about. So there we sat at Friendly's while he read aloud the toppings for the ice cream sundaw he was getting. Crushed oreos, m&m's, peanuts, walnuts. almonds, Death Bar. Hold up there. Death Bar? We can have death bar on our sundae? We nearly peed ourselves laughing. It reminded me of when we used to deliver Kidstreet News while I was writing for it. One of our school was the COlumbia School of the Dead. I swear. The man actually thought it was called the School of the Dead. Can you imagine the student body? The rotting Student body. You wouldn't have behavior problems, no one would interrupt you, so a limb fell off now and again, and the smell.... Really now. School of the Dead. I suppose they serve ice cream with death bars on it. BTW it was Heath Bar.

Compared to the husband's recent antics, it's kina scary that Rocco the Wonder Dog is getting smarter. He has figured out how to open the front gate by lifiting the latch with his nose. We stuck a stick in the opening to jam it shut and then he pulled the stick out with his teeth. So now we have a stretchy thing AND a stick in the hole and I'm just waiting for Rocco to come up with something else. I suppose his next move will be cllimbing the fence to get out. Of course, Rocco can't read menus... no opposable thumbs to hold the thing.

I shouldn't be so mean about the husband but honestly, he is the one who tells me to share his faux pas with the world. Today he used the word eke which is pronounced EEK only when it comes out of his mouth it's ek. He tries and he does keep me laughing and now he is fighting the battle of the thermostat for me.

The office is on the thrid floor of a historic building whose last incarnation was as a funeral home. The bottom floor is rented out for conferences and wedding receptions. The second and third floor are offices but usually the second floor is enpty during the day as well. There are three rented office on the third floor but one guy I saw once a couple months ago and not since then. There is a guy in the office next to us, a bill collector who got into a screaming fight with voodoo woman when she still worked for the husband. Now he just cusses out people on the phone, so loudly I often have to stick a finger in my ear to hear the person on the phone. Well the screamer keeps turning down the thermostat to 68. FAR TOO COLD for me. So I get up and push it up to 70. Even that is cold but I can live with 70degrees. NOw the Screamer would go out and turn it back down, up down up down. So the Husband jumped in yesterday and had the Screamer come into the office where I sat in a long sleeve top, heavy sweater and fingertipless gloves with my teeht chattering. The husband asked the Screamer if we could compromise and keep the thrmostat on 70. Oh no. The Screamer couldn't. He has alergies and his office is stuffy. He can't open his window because a fly once flew in. He can't turn on his fan because it slows down the computer... 5 outlets in the office and everything is plugged into one. Now he stands there telling the husband this and the husband notices something. The guy is wearing a pair of heavyweight sweats bottoms and two shirts. Why the two shirts? the husband asked him. Because he sweats so much he has to wear two shirts never figuring out that the reason he's sweating is that he's wearing two shirts and the heavy pants. However, ths husband has vowed that he will be successful and I will no longer have to wear gloves in the office in May. And beg for another coal on the fire. How can he be so confident? The owner of the building had even come up and told the Screamer that he was freezing in his office and the thermostat had to be turned up. The best part of it all is that I had said nothing about freezing to death or that my hands were cramped with the cold. The husband actually noticed and did something about it all on his own. Wow. After 33 years he's finally starting to pay attention to me. Gotta run. Older son just came home and I need to toast his taco shells. Later gator. ---me---

stuff

Dear Peruser,
Today the husband and I went to bruch at Denny's. There we sit, struggling to find something to say to each other because after being married for forever we've just about said it all when the husband's jaw drops and he starts making these weird faces at me. It finally dawns on me that he wants me to look behind me and a glance over my shoulder shows me that the woman in the booth behind me is sitting there, arm straight up holding a bottle of ketchup. Just sitting there as if she had to raise her to to... well... what? Was she asking to be excused to go to the bathroom or perhaps, asking if she could USE the ketchup. It seems she was trying to get the waitress' attention because she didn't know HOW to use the ketchup. I kid you not. Her table mate who, while unfolding himself from his seat, looked eerily like a praying mantis finally relieved her of the ketchup bottle and took it to the counter where it took two people to show him how to use it. He brought it back to the woman behind me and all was well with the world.
So here I'm thinking, how can you NOT know how to use a ketchup bottle? Little kids know how to use a ketchup bottle. This was even one of those upsidedown squeezey bottles that you don't have to wait forever for the ketchup to appear. Flip open the top, squeeze the bottle and ketchup. And all along I thought the husband was the only one with the duh moments. Did I tell you about the pool last year.?

He was getting the pool ready for the season and comes in all muttery and red in the face. 'The pool isn't working", he splutters at me," we just bought the damn filter and pump last year and now it's not working. I'll have to take it to the pool place and they'll have to send it out to be fixed and it'll take weeks and I can't filter the pool......" Well you get the idea. On and on he mutters till we are now up to the point where we need to buy a new filter, a new pump, new hoses and Park Place (with a hotel). Mutter mutter mutter. I asked if I could help and get a grumbled reply. So I put on my shoes walk out to the pool, switch the pump switch to on and walk back in the house with the pool merrily filtering away behind me. Meanwhile he's standing there gaping as me as if I had just WALKED across the sruface of the pool. He manages to pull himself together enough to ask HOW i had done that. (Oh but it was so hard not to laugh in his face) I shrugged lightly and simply told him I switched it on. Somehow he had forgotten that part of it. Sheesh. Good thing he and the don't know how to use a ketchup bottle lady never got together. It might take them year to figure out how to turn the knob to get out of the house.
In case you think I'm being too hard on him, he's the one who told me to tell you about that. And in case you think I don't appreciate him or that I consider him worthless I must tell you this. During that same Denny's visit, our waitress was running around like crazy trying to handle her table as well as a party of 12. She handled it all beautifully, neglected nobody and the tightwads of 12 left her an entire $3 tip. They didn't put the tip on any of their credit cards either (the husband checked with the cashier whow as also astounded that they were so cheap). Well the husband, who is a big softie pulled a ten out of his wallet and told me to give it to the waitress to help make up for those cheapskates. We had her and the cashier and the manager beaming by the time we left. Definitely an Awwww moment. So the husband for all his bubbleheadedness is an old softie.
Been a long day and I'm in need of a bath. Take good care of yourself. Love ya. ---me---

May 11, 2006

Dear Peruser,
I was in WalMart the other day buying old lady panties. A lot of Old Lady panties because Rocco has mistaken mine for a tasty snack and I don't go in for the crotchless look. So there I am in the lingere section with nine hundred decisions to make when all I want it s package of Old Lady panties. Only they don't SELL old lady panties. They sell thongs, briefs, high cuts, low cuts, bikinis and who know what all. I finally zeroed in on a bag 6 briefs with a 7th free and there on the front was a cool little blurb, nicely encased in red so you notice it. It seems the panties now come in a recloseable bag. Uh huh and I need a recloseable panty bag for what? So that my panties don't get stale. Lord knows I don't need stale panties. So since they had a recloseable bag I bought two, bags that is. No sooner do I bring them home, Rocco is in the bag. It seems he likes fresh panties in recloseable bags. I keep telling him he doesn't have opposable thumbs so he can't open ziplock bags. I have opposable thumbs and I can't open ziplocks but any dog who can manage to get his big butt in a flower pot, simply to have someplace to sit can probably open zip lock bags, opposable thumbs or not.
Speaking of shopping, something I rarely do outside of a dollar or a thrift store, I decided after watching Carol Duvall the other day that I needed heavy wire. ONly I would have to go to Home Depot to buy it and I HATE Home Depot. First of all you can't find anyone to help and it is so noisey in there that the noise drowns out my tinnitius. And there is that voice that, for all I know, is reciting nursey rhymes backwards that is always disturbing the noise and the bee bee bee of forklifts, only I never actually SEE a forklift and Wal Mart's lingere section does not sell wire.
Ok, so I'm wandering. Anyhow, I decided I might have to do that Home Depot thing but before I could get there, I went to a local dollar store that was selling these bracelets that look like something you would see on some native woman in National geographic. It was a coil of wire that I never would have been able to get over my hand but is thick thick wire in gold and in copper and I never had to set a foot inside home depot. Now if I could just remember what the heck it is that I wanted the wire for I'd be a happy camper.
It's getting late and is time for bed. Nighty night. ---me---

Catching up

Dear Peruser,
Who woulda thought that painting faces would have been so much harder than pig rassling. Nor can I figure out how only 3,000 kids show up but my arms feel like I painted 10,000 faces EACH DAY! Face painting ended up being the longest four days of my life. I'm not the only one to feel that way. Everyone said the same. Well the everyone who was part of the we all worked in the fall group which was basicly all the staff except for the performers.
The last day we had this little girl with braces on her legs make her careful way toward Larry to have her face painted. He walked carefully as if expecting the ground to disappear from beneath her feet. She made it to Larry who took both of her hands as she settled herself on the chair. Larry painted her face and then with a flourish, Larry helped her up with the same dignity he would have afforded a princess. We told the girls they were all warrior princesses, thinking it would help them get over the idea that they were just getting stripes and not kitties and rainbows. So this little girl made her careful way to the exit, stopping to talk to Carolyn who was taking the tickets. The little girls mom was urging her to come out all the way so they could go see something else. Carolyn, god bless her, listened intently. Finally the Princess had her say and made her way to the exit.
You expect adults to be understanding and kind but what happened next is what brought the tears to my eyes. the Princess' mom had two other girls with her. I noticed most chaperones had 3 charges and these girls definitely weren't the Princess' sisters but one carefully took the princess' hands and led her out the exit, making ever so certain that the princess didn't stumble or walk in to the barriers and to her mother. Mom then held one hand and the same kind child the other and the Princess was able to prance happily away. They were no older than third grade and I find that such things help me to know that maybe the world isn't so bleak after all.

And then there are the sons. My sons. Tuesday Older son and I went grocery shopping together. He had the whole list written out and was ready to go without me until the husband suggested that he wait for me. I was hot and sunburned and I went reluctantly but found that I enjoyed myself. We shopped quickly and efficiently, even had lunch. I rarely get to spend time alone with any of the sons. This was a gift.

Today I got a chance to go out with younger son. He had to go shopping as well and called me to go with him. Off we went. I raised another fine man. He's having a party tonight and his brother is grilling the food. Younger son told me that when there are parties where older son cooks, younger tries to get the group to go to the grill so that older isn't standing there all alone. Younger also tries to draw older into the converstations. Younger son is more outgoing than older and since they were little, younger attracted the people and drew older into the group.

How I ever got two such sons I don't know. I'm proud of the two of them and feel rather humbled by their easy affection toward me. Now if I could just remember how lucky I am the next time I'm feeling sorry for myself maybe I can shake it faster.

Husband is convinced that those squirrels are in the attic. He's been talking about ti for days but still hasn't gone into the attic to check. I half suspect that he thinks if he talks about it enough I'll get sick of hearing it and just take matters into my own hands and face the dreaded attic squirrells on my own. However, I'm determined to thwart him this time and wait him out. The way that things have gone in the past, I suspect we'll have us a whole herd of attic squirrells before the husband takes care of it. Wonder if I can sell them on ebay.

Gotta go. A bag of ceeze curls is calling my name. If you listen carefully you just might hear it. Bye. Love ya. ---me---

There's still a wolf in there somewhere.

Hello, It's me again, even more sunburned than yesterday despite copious amounts of sun block. It was estimated that we painted 10,000 faces today which is rather remarkable since only 3,500 people showed up. It just seemed like 10,000 and I definitely ran out of cool warrior and warrior princess names for the kids. Tomorrow I'm slapping the paint on and be done with it.
Did I mention the Latino Day laborer who helps out at face painting before the rest of us straggle in from our important mission of parking the cars and busses. He told me his name but it's beyond me to figure out what it was . It sounded like Eloi but isn't that the name of the blond people in the first Time MAchine movie. Anyway, I have never seen anyone so thrilled with face painting. He beams the entire time he's doing it and he's quite an artist even though we are only doing stripes etc. I wish they would let him stay the whole day, he's having a good time but when the rest of us finally do arrive off he goes to some job that I'm sure is less enriching than panting faces.
I've painted all types of faces today, black white and all shades in between and there is something about sitting close enough to a child to paint their face that makes each and every face beautiful. It may be the rounded curve of a cheek, or a dimple created by a smile, or the slope of a nose, the shape of the eye. And lets not forget the smiles. The smiles of a child who knows the joy of the moment and intends on living it fully. Oh god but I envy those children. It is no fun being grown up. Sigh.
I did get to touch the Zebra today. it would have been a better experience if some mostly grown teenager tried to tell me HOW to pet the Zebra and only ended up startling it away from me. Maybe I'll get a better chance tomorrow. It looks very donkey like, only much taller and its skin is hairier than I thought it would be. But when I spoke to him, he looked me right in the face and wuffed at me softly, then dipped his head into the bucket to eat. I let him be and pestered the bison instead. I know what it is that I miss at Native Lands over the Petting Farm. The smell of the animals. I love the smell of animals and my last animal dream does revolve partly around smell. I want to hold a baby orangutan in my arms and bury my face in its fur and inhale. I never thought I'd get to work with pigs or be in a pen with a kangaroo or touch a zebra... who knows... maybe I'll get to do the orangutan thing.
And speaking of animals, it leads me to Rocco the wonder dog and little dog Ollie. Ollie has to be the cutest dog on the face of the earth. He's a shi tsu mix and looks very much like a young ewok (for you Star Wars fans) he is so absolutely adorable that sometimes I forget that he is a dog. Rocco is goofy looking and broad chested and you never forget that HE is a dog.
Last night, Ollie was growling and giving Rocco those "Back off, Buster, THIS is mine" kind of barks that we rarely hear from him. I knew it wasn't achew bone causing the rucus, they had chewed them all, so I wandered over to find out what they were fussing over and found Ollie with a dead flattened squirrell. IN THE HOUSE! I'm usually tough but this was just too disgusting. I went running for Older son who wasn't where I thought he was but discovered him in the driveway and as I ran out the door to get him, the dogs were out and there was Olli White Fang, Wolf leader, running off with that squirrell in his mouth. Rocco was hot on his heels and JOsh brought up the back of the pack, twice around the pool, into the bamboo till Josh cut them off at the pass.
We have a squirrell highway on the roof but now thew husband has been making noises that the squirells might be IN the attic. I"m not climbing up there to see. I don't do attics on the best of day but me on an attic ladder with a frightened squirrell velcroed onto my face. Nope, the Husband gets to be the hero of that story.
Gotta go slather something gooey on this sun burn. Or maybe I'll just have some rice pudding. To eat, not slather. I'd never get the rice out of my ears. LOve ya. ---me---

First day at Native Lands

Dear Peruser,
Today was my first day at the petting farm that isn't. It's called Native Lands and there is a Bison AND a Zebra. Unfortunately there aren't any pens for kids to enter so I got to paint faces. I was excited about it but it got old really quickly. I mean they could only have two colors and six stripes, no spots yadda yadda. Parking the busses earlier was more fun so I had to put my spin on it otherwise I would have been face down in cups of paint. So as I slapped the paint on some of the cutest faces in the world, I gave them a name to go along with it. We had the Warrior of the Bear, the Warrior of the Far Mountains. Warrior Princess of the setting sun. Warrior princess of the never ending harvest. All with stripes but no one said the lines couldn't wiggle or zigzag and it really wasn't my fault that the one line compressed itself so that it looked like a dot. It was a line. I swear it was only a very very short line.
Well before I knew it, I had kids clamoring for me to do their faces, just because I gave them warrior names. Oddly enough, I did the face painting and the naming at the same speed as the others were just painting faces. As for me, I am now theWearier Princess of the painted hands. I swear it was easier wrestling pigs.
And I think I'm sunburned. Can you believe it. March and I'm sunburned, paint covered and really tired.
It's yellow shirts for the native lands staff. I love yellow and since this is only four days they ask if you want to take your shirt home with you each night or leave it there. Euuyyyuuwww. They offered me an xlg paint smudged shirt or I could have a 2x. If I'm going to wear a smudged shirt, they better be my smudges. Oddly I got no paint on my shirt but I have paint on my knee. I'm wearing jeans, to my ankle, there is no paint on my pants leg but there is paint on my knee. Maybe I'm the warrior princess of the painted knee.
These kids were absolutely adorable. Sweet faces, rounded cheeks and a giggle whenever the paint brush came down their nose. They all thanked us, despite the fact that they had to pay and extra dollar for the face paint, no pushing, no shoving. I still wish there were animals. It feels odd to be there without pigs.
Speaking of there. The Native Lands is held at a place called Blob's Park on Max Blob road. Many centuries ago when I was a kid, Blob's Park was a place the relatives went on a Sunday. The adults could polka and drink and the kids got to run around doing who knows what. I know I went there and I think there was a donkey and a pig but those animals belonged to the park. I find that I disremember a lot of things about childhood but the memory that really stands out to me is my two oldest girl cousins out there dancing to some jukebox song that had something to do with High Heels. We lost one of those cousins before Christmas but in my mind she's always there dancing and laughing and giving me those big squeezy hugs of hers. Even more heart breaking is the snapshot I found yesterday. Me as a baby in my father's arms and cousin Betty (not more than four) laughing with me and holding my hand. I'm the only one left of the trio in the picture.
That's it for today. I need a nap. ---me---