Rambo's Rampages...

 After a short sabbatical, I've picked up the proverbial pen again and am gracing my faithful few followers with my wit. Ergo, I'm pretty much talking to myself. But I AM making myself laugh.  https://medium.com/the-haven/8-troubleshooting-techniques-for-when-people-just-arent-working-right-9b9510b901fc   I'm welcome.

We bought our house over a decade ago from someone who used the large shop as an actual automotive business. For the first five or six years of us living here we had people in and out weekly thinking it was still a working garage. People were constantly knocking on our door asking for Carl. They would leave their cars parked in our driveway with their keys and a note. People even had vehicles towed here. And no matter how many times we said there was no business here anymore or how many signs we put on the doors people continued to show up.  One day two ladies came up to my door mid-morning asking about the "shop." I politely told them that there was no longer a shop here, it was just a family home now. They curiously looked at me and responded, "So you don't have anything to do with the guys in your garage?" I immediately jump to action knowing that my husband is upstairs asleep from night shift and my son is far too young to be out in the garage himself so I e...

 More like bowl.  A nice bowl, of course. A vintage white enamel one, specifically. They are my preferred style of kitchen ware. Light, tinsley, and most importantly they harken back to a different time where we cooked our meals over  fireplaces (inside or out) and lit our homes with candles and lanterns.  So it only made sense to use one for his bones.  He wasn't my favorite when he died, and this wasn't even my plan initially- to keep his bones- but when the time came it all just seemed to make sense. It still makes sense. I think of him and think, "Yeah, it's appropriate that your skull is on the kitchen sill behind my sink." It's our cat. ONE of our cats I should say. I clarify this only to show that he wasn't our one and only cat and I've already stated that he wasn't my favorite. But he was the one that both my husband and I came to an understanding with.  The understanding with my husband was: You are cat; you give me what I want and I will ...

 A couple of years ago my husband had this grand dream of getting an aquarium. Long story short, we got an aquarium. It was WAY harder to get started than we could have imagined and more than a few fish sacrificed their lives in our learning adventure. BUT after hundreds of water testing strips and filters and plants we finally struck a happy balance of fish and PH and got it chemically correct and grammatically correct and had a healthy tank.    So imagine for me, if you will, the constant pleasing, almost unnoticeable sound of the water running, the nice hue of light emanating from the tank, and the subtle movement of life continuously playing in the backgorund. Imagine your fish steadily growing- larger than you would have thought and the surprising fact that you really enjoy watching them.  On nights that Theodore's nurse isn't here and we find ourselves sleeping downstairs to accommodate him it's like a pleasant white noise as you sleep. The couch lies perpendic...

I'll admit it, I'm not a spring chicken anymore. Somewhere after I turned 30 my body and mind (mostly mind) decided they were going to knot themselves, or loose themselves. I'm not sure which. But whatever happened left me like "Well, this is it. I guess just death is left."  So anyway... I think I found my spirit animal.   Yes, kid, yes. I do. I don't even actually know what you said, but I feel you in the depths of my soul.   I relate to the rapid searching of your mind for the right word that has miraculously disappeared from your vocabulary. I relate to your utter unashamed determination to NEVER QUIT until you say exactly what you wanted to say. And mostly, I relate to you doing this all out loud. If I'm suffering you're all suffering.  Dear kid that I don't know, back when this video came out I could not relate. I didn't fully appreciate you. But now. Oh now, I really do. Unfortunately for me, trying to order a breakfast sandwich at the...

Handheld Vacuum  Sealer. Have you guys heard of these things? These crazy, beautiful creations? You probably have. It took me about 2 years to get on the meme train, I still don't have an Instapot, and "cold busted" is still in my repertoire. (But come on, you know there's no better word for those stinging digs.) Nevertheless, I have just discovered this novelty, thanks to my mother in law (who, yes, is FAR more current than I).  Um... these things are amazing.   LOOK AT MY CHOCOLATE CHIPS. JUST LOOK AT THEM. Also, look at my counter tops. That was totally intentional.    I have avoided the whole vacuum sealer thing because.... I just didn't want to do it *whiny voice*. Having to pull out another machine, setting it up, finding a place to store it... Okay, that might not seem bad, but it is. It always felt like such a chore. And when you already have to vacuum your house twice a day because you have two German Shepherds - you read that right. Twice. A. Day...

Sometimes I'm the worst. No, really, don't try to stop me from saying this. **************************************crickets************************************************* Wow. Really? No one? That hurts, guys. Despite the many protests from the audience I just received, I must admit that sometimes I am the absolute worst person. Okay, not really, I'm not a mass murderer or a puppy killer or a fan of Nickelback. But, in the past, if my cup got tipped at just the right time I may have been known to slam a door or crush my childrens' hopes and dreams with just a word. Hypothetically. Unrelated: I may be starting to see why no one tried to stop me earlier.....   But there's something that I've been wanting to get off my chest. Deep breath. And go. When the kids were little, Israel the eldest, like Gandalf the Grey- very distinguished, would be getting his breakfast or possibly even helping the younger two get their breakfast. At this time they were...

I tell the kids this evening that they are on their own for dinner. Mostly because whilst cleaning the kitchen I accidentally threw away the left overs of the early dinner my husband and I had consumed a few hours before. (The joys of night shift... but that's another post). And thankfully my children, 3 of them anyway, are old enough to make their own food. So, yay, mommy is off the hook! I think. My one daughter decides to make a salad. Lettuce, kale, broccoli and vidalia onion viniagrette. Woot! I am doing something right!!  The other daughter who never likes anything I make probably thought this was a gift straight from God.  But seeing as how there was no cereal or steak in the house - because those are the two things she will eat - decides dinner is overrated and forgoes eating anything. My son, who tries valiantly to like whatever I make and usually kindly rates my food at "it wasn't my favorite", also decides to make himself a salad. I think. He...

"I don't think you understand the concept of Fun Land." - Benjamin     I cried. Right there under the Paratrooper ride next to the hose for vomit. Right in the middle of FunLand with screams and laughs and smiles all around me. For the most part I think I went unnoticed. Parents too busy videotaping their children on rides for the first time, boys too busy trying to impress girls, kids too busy running away from their parents.  I'm sure I wasn't noticed. That is until Emma turns around and in an effort to speak above all the noise loudly says "Mom, you look like you might be crying!" And EVERYBODY and EVERYTHING stops. All the noise and rides are suddenly supernaturally suspended mid air and all eyes are on me. The void of movement is palpable. I'm pretty sure time stopped. Yes, yes, people, I'm crying, get over it. And they do in a matter of about 0.2 seconds because, thankfully, nobody really cares.   I cried at FunLand. How in the w...

Guys, I have a confession to make. Here goes...... I threw out all my houseplants. There. I've said it. All of them are gone save for an aloe, because God bless it, that plant lives through anything, and a dying orchid just because I can't give up on that one yet.  They're all gone. Including a plant I've had practically since we got married almost 12 years ago. I abandoned it on the deck to fend for itself and it finally gave in to the terrible conditions. It's dead. Dead dead. (Note: I am in NO way saying that it's a picture of our marraige.... or AM I??? ) It was time. Time to go out with the old; the dearly beloved, close to my heart, old. They sat and looked at me every time I walked into the kitchen with their sad droopy dry leaves and asked me why I no longer loved them. I could never answer. The truth is that I still loved them. I still do! Even though they are now compost. But I had to let them go. And now, the guilt they brought me from their p...