Spring???

Oh, yes. The beauty of spring is evident in the yellow-headed daffodils standing sentry over the emerging tulips--being covered in snow! Yes, it snowed five times here today, with some accumulations in the mountains reaching a foot. This April in Utah will be one of the coldest on record, isn't that something to jump up and down about!?!? Everyone is grumbling about this "damn long winter," and some are even threatening to move away, but do you think old man cold and frost cares? No, he's hanging around like stink. It sure puts a crimp on getting out and enjoying the weather--unless you like winter sports. In that case, you might be able to ski in July this year.
     The golf course hates it. Every time there's a tinge of blue to the sky, a parade of golf carts wobble through the muddy fairways, leaving ruts all over the place. They've staked some areas to preserve the grass, but it's a soggy mess.
     I joined our complexes "Condo Babes" (snicker, snicker--we're none of us babes!) for the first time last Friday. I should have stayed home. Not only did I get mud covered, I missed the ball on three out of every four swings! The "Oh, it will be fun. Don't worry if you can't play well, we understand." became "Keep your head down! Did you hear me? Keep your head down!" before we'd finished the first hole. Actually, I thought the other three lovely ladies in our foursome were very generous with their patience and advice. I'd have driven off and left me to sink to my knees in the muck! I don't even dare suggest joining them again--and I'm sure they won't either.
     But, tomorrow we're meeting for our "Skinny Bitches" exercise. I have no clue where the name came from because we're not skinny and we're not bitches. And, we really do exercise--before we indulge in sprinkled donuts. But...I lead the Yoga section and we'll see how the great golfers do at bending like a pretzel tomorrow. :}
     Oh. Just a final word of encouragement. My grandmother Teola had a favorite (aggravating) saying: "It always snows on the lilacs." Our lilacs haven't begun to bloom yet. Maybe it is time to move!

Yes I DO have a blog!

As I've been reminded, it's a month since I last posted here. So much for my planned schedule, thanks to being away, picking up every bug along the way, and trying to work. Funny how feeling rotten knocks the heck out of priorities.
     Spring in California was lovely, the kids and grand kids were amazing and making it back all in one piece (snotty-nose and all) felt incredible. Coming home to green lawns, trees budding and the spring ritual of male ducks chasing females (or as in the case of what my neighbor calls "the slut duck"--a female chasing the males) it took away from the sting of additional snow and rain and flooding in various nearby areas.
     Spring is also time for more "Mikeism's". Sorry, but I just can't ignore the fodder he feeds me. :}
     Since we hadn't seen our neighbors following our return, Mike called Chris. A man--who sounded like Chris--answered saying, "Michael."
     "Hi Chris. This is Mike," Mike said, thinking the voice on the other line greeted him by name.
     "I think you have the wrong number. I'm Michael," said the man.
     "Yeah, sure Chris. Are you busy? Since I haven't seen you for awhile, I thought I'd come over and visit. I'll bring my own coffee."
     "Ah. I think you've got the wrong number."
     "Come on Chris. I haven't got time to play games. If you don't want me to come over, that's okay."
     "No. Really. You've got the wrong number. I'm Michael," said the very patient man. By this time I would have hung up on Mike, but perhaps this guy was bored at work.
     "Chris. Knock it off. I know it's you. Do you think I don't know your voice?"
     A long pause. "Well, I may sound like Chris, but this is Michael. You've got the wrong number."
     "Chris," Mike said, probably rather huffy by this time, "your number's programmed in my phone. I've called you before. I know this is you!"
     "Sorry," the man said.
     At this point Mike began to think maybe he did have the wrong number and hung up after a sort-of apology. "Okay Chris. Sorry to have bothered you. Bye."
     Two days later Mike saw Chris out in the yard and walked over. He told Chris about the call and laughed, saying, "you thought you could trick me, didn't you?"
     Chris laughed, but said, "Mike, I didn't get a call from you. Are you sure you have the right number?"
     "Of course I'm sure. I've called you lots of times with that same number. Did you change it?"
     "No, not for several years. I'll tell you what. You call me now and we'll see who answers."
     So, Mike pulled up the number he had listed for Chris and pushed the call button. For some mysterious reason Chris disappeared into the garage just as Mike placed the call. This time he got a voice message: "Hi, this is Michael. I'm sorry I'm unable to take your call (yeah, he probably recognized the number from this weird guy calling him Chris). Please leave me a message." Mike hung up without leaving a message and was so pissed at Chris for perpetuating the joke, he took off on his bike and didn't talk to Chris until the next day. After confronting Chris again on his "little joke," Chris said, "okay. I'll call you and you'll have my number in your phone, and then we'll compare the numbers."
     Chris called Mike and it turned out Mike did have the wrong number programmed for Chris. Now the question is: Who did Mike talk to in his previous calls to this number? or, did the number in his phone somehow get changed by the airwaves ghost? :} Whatever the answer, life with Mike is never boring!
     It's great to be back. Thanks for reading.
    

A Week of Firsts

Sunny California has given way to rain and wind this past week during our stay here, but anytime with the kids and grand kids is a delight. We've encountered some surprises, including many first time unexpected events.
     The most surprising of these occurred when my 42 year-old son developed an itching rash, which turned out to be chicken pox! Being of a certain, somewhat forgetful age myself, I can only guess what childhood illnesses he encountered, but surely he had chicken pox! Alas, a search of the baby book I so carefully kept up-to-date until he turned three (and then totally neglected) provided NO clue! My limited memory does recall exposing my children to every sick kid within miles. How could he escape chicken pox? The doctor came to my defense with an explanation that someone with a weakened immune system could develop a second go-round, but my son isn't buying it. :}
     The next surprise happened when I mentioned something about Stan being my son within hearing distance of our seven-year old grandson. "You're my daddy's mom?" he asked in amazement. Further questions followed, such as: "Who's his daddy?" When I replied, "Grandpa Bill," you could see the wheels turning as his eyes got wide. "You were married to Grandpa Bill?" I know. Seems hard for me to believe now, too.
     Then came the first of Zoey the cat disappearing. She's a mostly inside, sometimes outside wanderer cat, but she never let the call of the wild deter her from a soft, warm and dry bed before. Tears were shed by all the following morning when she still couldn't be found. Adults began to search sides of roads and map out a plan for posting flyer's and calling shelters, when wonder of wonders, a crying meow dropped from a tree--a large tree. There sat Zoey, drenched and clinging to a branch. Stan, chicken pox and all, retrieved a ladder and held it while Tracy (our wonderful daughter-in-law) climbed 15 feet up the side of the tree to rescue the sorry-looking feline. Whatever chased Zoey up the tree left her with a big bite on her tail, but otherwise she seemed to fare the elements without major problems. We sure wish she could talk! This morning she seemed to forget her harrowing experience as she tried to run out when the door was open. Perhaps she's looking for revenge, but someone needs to tell her she only has eight lives left!
     Another wonder occurred this week when the seven-year old grandson began receiving visits from the "Little Leprechaun," prior to St. Patrick's Day. This charming fellow left notes: "Ha Ha, He He, you can't catch me," and "I played in your room, but nobody caught me. PS I left you a cookie," and "Time is running out to catch me. PS. I'll be watching you," and "You didn't catch me, but good luck next year. PS. I brought Zoey back for you." The notes accompanied toys left out on Jay's bedroom floor, a trail of green glitter (where the Leprechaun walked) and treats. I'm not sure who had more fun with this "visit."
     Mike (still a kid at heart) and 14 year-old Zac drove to San Francisco for the St. Patrick's day celebration on March 12th. As they zoomed their way along the bay on bikes, Grandpa (aka the bad influence) let loose with a "farmer blow!!" and learned from Zac the new terminology for this disgusting trick: "Snot Rockets! Is it any wonder this is Zac's first (and probably last) bike ride alone with Grandpa!!!
     Next week it's crazy, weird Santa Cruz and the five-year-old twins. :}

Have you missed me??

Sorry! Life sometimes gets in the way of posting!

Saturday came and went while I enjoyed spending time with two of my sisters. Our other sister--the blonde one (who isn't blonde) couldn't make it, so of course we didn't talk about her--except to say how sweet and cute she is. :}

Tuesday blurred past in tax preparations. If spring wasn't such a beautiful time of year, taxes would make it easy to get depressed. But, blooming crocus' (even snow covered) can't help put a smile on your face. However, I also saw another sign of spring yesterday. A fly!! Since we're getting ready to leave on a trip to CA, I didn't want to come home to a house-full of maggots (yes it doesn't happen, but that's a story for another day), so I cornered the little pest in the bathroom. He turned out to be very good at hiding (I guess I would be too if some crazy woman with a washcloth came at me), and I would have nailed him if my six shots came anywhere close to him. Anyway...he outlasted me and for all I know he'll have lots of little companions while we're away. I will not think of this while I'm away. I will not think of...

Wednesday wouldn't be complete without meeting with my wonderful writing Divas, and working my rear off exercising with the Skinny Bitches. Just for the record, we're neither skinny nor bitches, but we have a fun time working up a sweat. Of course after burning all those calories, we need a little sustenance, and one of our ladies complies by bringing sprinkled doughnuts. :} So far I've gained six pounds.

This is a rather round about way of saying I haven't done well at keeping to my Tuesday/Saturday post schedule. And...as I said, we're traveling for the next two weeks, so I may be erratic, but I'll be here.

The Nag

The mother in me came out yesterday, however when it's aimed at your spouse it becomes "nagging." Little, thoughtful questions like: "You know you only have 30 minutes until you have to leave for your appointment, don't you?" or "It's now five minutes until you need to leave," somehow get misconstrued as an attempt to control.     
     In my defense, perhaps I feel a bit responsible for being the person who taught the spouse how to use the computer, so like the rest of us he no longer blinks or tells time.
     Or...maybe I have something in common with Mubarak and Gadhafi, and others in that region who are finding themselves out on a very weak limb. If I had just thought to provide the equivalent of a months salary--to be spent however the recipient desired--my "mothering" would be welcome. Then replies of "I'm leaving!" "You should be happy to be all by yourself today," would be spoken only in the privacy of the vehicle once said spouse left. :}
     But, being a dictator doesn't work well for a marriage, so I guess I'll give it up and save the "mothering" for my kids. Just kidding!!!!
     At least the spouse doesn't hold grudges. As we were saying goodnight last night, he rolled over and whispered in my ear: "Goodnight my sweet, thoughtful, cheerful, patient wife."
     Or wait...was he being facetious??

For those of you who now can't wait to read my next post on Saturday--Hello. Is anyone there?? Well, if anyone is there, I'm headed to SLC to spend the week with my sister from Maine, so Saturday's post will get moved to Sunday.
Catch you then!

The Joys of Travel

It sounded like a great idea–see the country and let someone else pay for it. What could be easier? Pick up two small buses at the assembly plant in High Point, North Carolina and drive them 2500 miles to Salt Lake City, Utah. “Uh-oh!” I can hear you sage travelers say, knowing much better than the naive young couple we were at the time the pitfalls of driving an untested vehicle across the country.
     Like moths in the flame, we were dazzled at thoughts of all the sights we would see. We packed bags, farmed out kids, picked up Mike’s parents and hopped a red-eye flight.
     Excitement overrode our travel weariness the next afternoon as we loaded suitcases into buses and headed west. Lush vegetation, new foods, a foreign language they claimed was English: the first day was a marvel. After a good nights rest and a biscuit and gravy breakfast, we fueled the buses and hit the road, ready for another day of adventure. Thirty miles later, Mike flashed his lights–our signal to take the next off ramp (this was LONG before cell phones, remember). Coasting into a gas station, he said the gauge showed empty. We shook our heads because we refueled only twenty miles previously, but he attempted to fill the tank. The automatic shutoff on the nozzle kept clicking off, allowing only a gallon or so at a time to be pumped. By the next day, an airlock in the tanks prevented filling more than a penny at a time in both buses. (We later learned a defect in the chassis installation crimped the vent tubes.) Thank goodness this was when a penny’s worth of gas was more than the fumes it is today, and it only took two to three hours, many angry station owners, ranting from others trying to use the pumps and much frustration on our part to fill the tank.
     Being creative individuals, we amused many, angered more and became the focus of much discussion and finger pointing as we tried rocking the buses, driving up on the curb to create a downward flow and even using a toilet plunger in attempts to clear the airlock.
     At one point I said aloud I’d love to have a book of matches. My wonderful father-in-law took over the nozzle and continued to be the gas-pumper the rest of the way home. No. I wouldn’t have really set the bus on fire, but I sure thought about it!
     Our wonderful “adventure” consisted of many bizarre fuel stops, no sight-seeing, and many late nights trying to make up lost time, but thirty years later we can still laugh about it.

Other Duh's

Isn't this a shocker. I'm actually posting early! I'm headed to Salt Lake to spend a couple of days with a dear friend while she has some outpatient surgery, and since I'm still living in the dark ages, I don't have a lap-top. I'm heading down tonight because she has to be at the hospital at 5:30. YES, 5:30 AM. This will be tough for a night owl. It might be easier on my body to just stay up! :)
     I'm feeling so pleased because for once I'm not Lyn-duh. I've caught others in the DUH act, as follows:
     My mom. (I know--easy target!) She and my step-dad went to IHOP for breakfast recently. As they were leaving, Mom went to wait by the door, while Jack paid the check.  When she saw him approach, she reached out and took his arm for him to help her to the car, except it wasn't Jack and she had the arm of a stranger. He and his wife were gracious and laughed, though I'm sure my mother turned every shade of red available.
     Mike. Last week I couldn't find a big brown tray we use occasionally. I asked Mike if he knew where it was and he said he hadn't seen it. Following a lecture on leaving it somewhere and had I remembered to put our name on it, the matter was closed (though I KNEW I never took that tray out of the house because it's so ugly!). Yesterday, he came to me and said, "I have something to tell you that will make you happy, but mad at me. I found the tray. It was with some of my things." I was so proud of him for not hiding the tray in a different cupboard and "discovering" it later, I couldn't be mad at him.
     Mike. Same day. He had been working in the garage and came in to refill his Windex bottle. After he finished he headed back to the garage, but found instead of the Windex bottle, he was carrying the remote! (Yes, he is male, isn't he!)
     My sister. On pain of death, I have been warned NOT to use her name, so we'll call her Bonnie. Bonnie stopped at a fast food restaurant (What is it with our family and restaurants??). After she left the counter, she heard her phone ringing and started looking for it. She couldn't find it in her pocket, in her purse and it wasn't on the table. Knowing she was on the phone when she entered the restaurant, she checked to make sure she didn't leave it on the counter when she picked up her order. While this was going on, her daughter asked what she was looking for. "My phone," Bonnie answered. "I know I had it when I came in here." After a long pause, her daughter said, "Mom, you do realize you're talking to me on your cell phone, don't you?" And Bonnie isn't even blonde.
     There. I feel so much better!

Quote of the day: Pride goeth before a fall.  I can't wait to see what stupid thing I'll do now after laughing at everyone else!