My Buddy Bree

That is Bree. She was born 17 years ago last May and has been dear to me every day since. She is my Grand-Daughter. Bree never judges anyone, has a calm personality, (odd coming from this family of drama queens) she is responsible, caring, giving, loving, deeply sensitive and a young woman who laughs at my jokes. That's the most important and best deal that comes with knowing Bree. For me anyway. Throughout life we have shopped together, painted pictures together, had our hair done together, listened to one another and I can only hope to know other people like her in my life, although that's a tall order to fill. We plan on someday getting tatoo's together. LOL. Sometimes she makes me laugh so hard I cant hardly drive. Today she worked with me making some deliveries. It was Big Football Game Day in College Town Wisconsin so we had to fight "happy drivers," (not) and college kids drinking early in the day, (she taught me about the "Beer Pong," game, along with no available parking anywhere. But we always forge on....taking funny photos of each other, and the Autumn leaves changing, buying pizza and candy bars, and joking about our sometimes stupid life. Yet being thankful for everything we have, especially each other. Bree is not only a Grand-Daughter, but a Grand Person. We gotta get her those UGG's soon. Why? Because! She laughs at my jokes. Some people do "Stand up Routines," but I do "Sit Down Drivin Routines," and I have the best audience ever. My jokes are slim and none tonight due to the ruggers of travel today. Check back tomorrow for a possible sit down blogpost routine. No Chickens Allowed. (see past chicken posts)

I Have Blinkers

Most people take their "blinkers" for granted. Like they take their life for granted, not living each day to the fullest like we are supposed to. What does granted mean anyway? I "grant/GIVE" you the privilege of whatever it is. So I should have been given blinkers for my car when they quit huh? Didn't happen folks. I was told over a year ago that it was electrical and at labor costs of $93.oo an hour it might take some time to find the cause. I don't have a guy around to find my dissed blinker cause so I decided to start "arming" my car and myself. What is arming you say? Well its putting your arm out the window in 30 degree weather as well as 100 degree weather to tell others you are turning right or left. I think my arm has met the generational gap because people really get mad when you put your arm out the window, what for? And then you turn. I don't think they know what I am doing. I took the road test and training! They taught us how to do what I had been doing with the arm, but none of those people on the highway or byways liked it at all. Some didn't have a clue what I was doing that for. I have been hollered at, screamed at, given bad hand signs, cursed at and nearly beat up. I would just say sorry, its broke. One person said, "What the H are you doing, your not riding a bike!" After a year of hate on the highway I was with my daughter getting her car fixed when she told the nice young man about Mom's blinkers. He took a peak and told me he could fix them for $38.00 and that was including tax. I about fell over and broke that arm I used to need to blink with. But I didn't....instead I figure I will make that fellow Nate and his crew at Midas a couple dozen of my prize chocolate chip cookies. I am soooo happy to have real blinkers I like to just sit and listen to them go click click, click click, click click... You don't know what you have 'til you lose it. I shall never take my blinkers for granted again. Because they aren't free anyway, nor is life. (By the way this isn't the Nate on Oprah that does re-do's of people's homes and condo's but this is Nate that did a re-do for me that changed my life too.

photo from: pollyvousfrancais.blogspot.com/2008_02_01_arc

Was That Dog Food I Ate?

While I was grocery shopping the other day, which is more like preparing for outerspace travel considering the prices and choices verses the average pocketbook which led me to decide to buy a "can" of beef hash. God only knows why I did that because I don't eat canned hash. I eat organic foods and some Healthy Choice dinners and so on. But there it was this morning in the pan with the egg. Then the scent came rushing upwards (like at take off) into all my senses and those senses said, "Dog food!" I swear it smelled like the cheap cans of dog food I heat up for Gracie Allen on occasion. Even her organic dog food smells better than this beef hash smelled. I made a conscious decision to attempt to eat it thinking maybe it was purchased out of some hidden and wonderful memory from childhood or one of the better minutes of one of my better marriages. Not! It smelled and tasted like bad dogfood and I will never buy it or eat it again unless its all there is to go with the bread we'll get in the depression bread lines. Eeewww. Stop that talk!

Tyler Died Last Night

Well I got off the chicken blogs and now I need to find the humor I offer to many others on a daily basis. It is in the black hole today along with Tyler's death by drugs. I found out this morning Tyler OD'd last evening by "sniffing/snorting" bad H. Our family is wholesome, upper middle class, clean cut whatever that means and believing there is more to this being born, living, and dying deal. I am totally duh on sniffing anything besides 409 which makes me sick as I use it to clean stubborn spots. But I understand addictions as I sniffed/snorted/sucked nicotine for a few decades or so. No longer an issue for me yet I do understand because there are instances I find myself looking for something and "By Golly" (bimbo Sara Palin talk) it be a cig stick, if you can believe it. Been six years out and still at times look for it. Back to Tyler, who is a relative by marriage, age 24 ish and maybe somewhat lost. But then many are. But they don't do H. He did H and his roommate found him white with blue lips. Dead. 911. They broke his ribs reviving him......he was gone 8-10 minutes....shouldn't he be brain dead? He was brain dead for doing H in the first place so maybe the revive was a brain-revive huh? They put him in ICU and watched his blood enzymes trying to return to normal which they had not when he decided to check out of the ICU and Hospital. Who does that? Tyler! A young spunky fellow who isn't ready to die. He needed a cigarette and the patch they put on him wasn't working well enough. Well, coming off H, I don't suppose a Nicotine patch does a whole lot ya think? To top it all off when Tyler died he didn't see "The Light!" He rather experienced pitch black, cold, alone. And he sobbed saying there is no God, there is nothing after this. Hello, let the brain rest and begin to think again.....The H may have something to do with the black, cold, and alone. Why would sooo many people give testimony of the light and some give testimony of the black if it didn't have some meaning. I would say Mr. Tyler needs to start making some changes. Giving....and forgiving. Mr. Tyler WILL see the light because many of us are praying for just that. He is a sweet young man who almost stayed dead in the dark vs getting a new chance to see the light forever. He will.

The Queen of Green

This is Lindsay, sometimes I call her Leona. You know, that mean Hotel owner that left her dog $12,000,000.00 (is that enough zero's LOL) and nothing to anyone else. Now you are "getting it." Working with your teenage daughter is as hard as being married to the wrong man...or woman I should add. I started a business called A Green Experience and added her to the payroll. I mean if I hadn't I would have had to pay anyway so might as well get her moving and shaking for her food and hair supplies, and clothes, and UGG's, and so on. Only problem is she thinks she is the Queen of my Green! She tells me when I miss spots, when one spec is on the floor after I finish working my ars off to clean it. Add Perfectionist on top of the Leona Syndrome and you have it! I am now searching for a support group for parents of teens who think their queens. Or maybe I will get those papers filled out and send her off to college depending on the election and the student loan situation. Wonder if I could get some of that "dog money" from Leona. Surely these two are related. Drama runs in our family meaning I added a bit to this scenario. Or did I? Signing off as Mama D today.

Birthday Photo Bouquet

I had to find something to get me off Chicken blogs. So on to something new and just know you saw it here first. A Birthday or Graduation Photo Bouquet. I have never seen this done before, except by me, not that it hasn't been done before, but not to my knowledge. My daughter was graduating and while looking for a centerpiece for the table I noticed those long clear plastic card holders. You know the ones they clip the little card to that says, "I love you forever," or "Happy Birthday Baby," and so on. Something told me to clip a photo on that dealie so I did. That is after I "lifted" about fifteen of those plastic card/photo holders. Fifteen in case I broke any I needed a couple extra. And would you look at what I came up with. Magnificent huh? The carnations are her school colors with some added silver squibblys. K-12 photos with beans and barbecue and cake and cheese and all sort of foods. Add a pool and money and children and we had one wonderful party. Of course that was a year and a half ago but I had to find some way to get off chickens!

Chicken Maranarja (not Marajuana duh)

Here we go again with more Chicken talk or should I say balk. Cute! Get it, balk, balk, balk, and so on. Gracie Allen, my dog, and I are eating Healthy Choice, Cafe Steamers Chicken Margheita. Sorry I thought it was Maranarja. Not even close. 300 calories! You see after the post discussing the unfertilized egg umbilical cord in my frying pan I just couldn't do the egg today. It is 10:30 a.m. and why not eat Chicken Margherita. Maybe I should have had a Margarita too. Naw, too early and too sweet. Those are great for noon lunches with old friends as long as you eat a ton with it so you can (not) drive home after sitting and taking up the table for three hours of talking nonsense. It still beats a six pack, a hockey stick, and a snowmobile sitting outside the Whitehouse. Sorry all you bowlers and snowmobile rs but its just not my thing. The Hilton please and no side turns. Geez, my dog ate so much Margheita she is laying out on her side while the cat is dealing with a hair ball across the room. Still say, its better than what? Its just fine. I am still living alone after four weeks of no teenagers in the house. It is amazing. I even started remembering how to cook. And I bought some drawer liners, go figure....I am on a living alone roll and do not plan to change course. It quiet, I can have my own thoughts and say what I want to anyone listening...including myself. I can put a picture up and no one says eeww no no. I can do whatever I want with no interference. It is amazingly wonderful. Better than divorce from a bad man.... better than.....and so on. I think it is time for a piece of DOVE chocolate to top off our Chicken breakfast. I wouldn't want to get to confident or comfortable just in case...that goes for the election too. She's a slick one. We had bullies like her in H. S. too. Wanna be winners that sometimes made it just because they were tough and walked over the top of everyone else. Like those big wheeled trucks that run over a row of cars. The row of cars being the middle class. That six pack talk is calling all the middle class to vote for her so she can line 'em all up and run over them thru poverty. Well "guys and gals"... (and don't forget to add the accent) watch your back with this one, she's no chicken!