Ringtones And Memories

If I happen to call Brandon (my son) when he is in a public place, he quickly answers with a loud, "Hi, Mom!" Why quick and loud? He wants complete strangers to know that "She Drives Me Crazy" (Fine Young Cannibals) is his mother's ringtone and NOT his favorite song. How I happened to earn that as my ringtone is not what you may think. Actually that song reminds Brandon and I of each other. About sixteen years ago, on the way to Michigan, that song came on the radio. We cranked it up and sang at the top of our lungs! It's just a good memory of a good time. (the ringtone he has for his sister is "Stupid Girl".....she is not)

Funny how music has the ability to transport us to a different place and time. Submerging us in emotions from our past.

A few years after I graduated, the person who I "went steady" with (do kids still do that...sounds silly now) most of the way through high school told me that every time he heard "Long Cool Woman In A Black Dress" he would think of me. He said it was because of us being at some dance where I wore a black dress. At 5' 3" I was anything, but long. In fact, I'm pretty sure the only thing "long" about me was that I was a long way from being cool. However, I owned that black dress!

On the rare occasion that I hear, "Beautiful Sunday", I'm thirteen years old, riding in a station wagon full of other teens. Cathy's dad (Ray) is at the wheel. All of us (including Ray) are belting out that song. We're on our way to shop for dresses to wear to the Homecoming dance. What a beautiful sunny day it is, but it's NOT a Sunday. If it were Sunday we wouldn't be skipping school.

Let me know what times and places you are taken to by those time machines with melodies.

Rachael Ray Wanna Be

Does anyone have an extra blender? Gina needs one. It seems she (inadvertently) threw away the lid for hers. Gina also, left the bowl part of her food processor near the heat vent on the stove. Yep. Destroyed. If I told you once I told you a thousand times: DON'T use the stove top as counter space! Did I mention that her electric frying pan was propped up (apparently not good enough) on the counter to dry and ended up crashing to the floor? Broken legs. Of course, that one was her husbands fault, because he had the audacity to walk through his own kitchen. He didn't TOUCH the frying pan...he just walked through the kitchen. The nerve!!! I would file for a divorce so fast it would make his head spin!

For someone who (obviously) has it in for small kitchen appliances, it seems odd that Gina recently had a dream that her and Rachael Ray were really good buddies. "Tight," she said, "We were really tight."

Something tells me that if Rachael Ray shows up, I'll be kicked to the curb! That's just fine, because when Martha Stewart comes knocking on my door......Gina's ass is history!

Don't Feed That Bitch Beans

The Horseman and I used to cuddle in bed, but that came to an abrupt halt about two years ago, when he brought that bitch home! I hear him talking to her ALL the time. "Daddy's baby girl. Daddy loves the baby girl." I named her "Roxy", but I occasionally call her "Obnoxy". She's a boxer-mix, who sleeps smack-dab in between us. No cuddlin' goin' on in this house!

Like many dog owners, we have to spell certain words rather than speak them aloud. C-A-M-P-I-N-G. If you say it you'd better mean it! Uttering that word invokes a big hell raising session. Roxy loves camping and being out on the trail when we go riding. Lucky for The Horseman he brought home a true horse-dog.

The hooking-up of the horse trailer is another "hell raising" experience. The last time Rebel had to go to the vet, I drove in from work, hooked the trailer up and pulled around in to the driveway before letting Roxy out of the house. Oh, Boy! Jump! Jump! Jump! Bark! Bark! Bark! I load Rebel on the trailer. More jumping! More barking! (here's where it's a good thing when dogs understand some words) I said, "Roxy, he's going to the vet." She quietly went back into the house. Decidedly, Dr. Levine was not someone she wanted to see that day.

Back to our sleeping arrangement. The Horseman uses a breathing machine at night. The nose-piece expels air, causing a cool breeze. The bitch doesn't like a breeze in her face, but she still insists on sleeping in the middle. Being the intelligent creature she is, her remedy is to lay with her head down by our knees. Do you see where this is going? Yup! The dogs rear is in between our pillows!

As a footnote: The statement I made, about no cuddlin' goin' on, is not entirely true. Inevitably, at some point during the night, one of us ends up snuggled to the dog's ass!

Casual Friday

So, it's Friday morning and I show up for work.....looking exactly as I did when I went to bed the night before...my hair completely straight and plastered to my head, no make-up, wearing a thread-bare nightgown which (unfortunately) has more than its share of static electricity. I have clothes with me and intend to change before anyone else comes to work, but I lose track of time. The first person I encounter is my boss, (good old Z-Man) who engages me in a nice little conversation and (politely) pretends not to notice my attire. Lucky as I am, this is the day the construction crew is here to start on renovations. I am bombarded with questions about breaker-boxes and the HVAC unit. DAMN! Can't a girl get some clothes on around here? In all the confusion I look down to see the teddy bear on my gown clinging nervously to my chest. I feel your pain, buddy! Regardless of how bad this situation seems, I am thankful to be wearing the nightgown, because I have been known to go to work completely naked.

You can imagine my feeling of relief when my alarm sounds and I wake to find that this is Friday morning. I feel as though I've been given a "do-over!"

How Are You The Smorning?

Carrie (my daughter) has been an aspiring writer since a very early age. Even at five or six years old she always had her nose in a book or pen and paper in hand. Not much has changed in that respect except the pen and paper have been replaced with a laptop. My parents were visiting from Michigan when six-year-old Carrie asked my mother how to spell "smorning". Naturally, my mom questioned the word. "You know, Grandma, like: How are you the smorning?". When her grandmother tried to explain that the phrase was actually, "How are you THIS MORNING?" Carrie became frustrated with her. Stupid Grandma! How could she not know that "smorning" is a real word! After all, she had heard that word a thousand times.

Sawdite! When I was a little girl, (long before the 'Godfather' movies came out) that's what my sister (Betty) used to say, but (to me) it sounded more like, sedite. I knew exactly what she meant when she said it, because of the context in which the word was used.

There really is no point to this particular blog, but I would just like to tell Carrie and Betty that sawdite the smorning!