You Have Been Warned

I may offend a few readers in this post, but I have always been of the mind that everyone needs to agree to disagree if there is some point they cannot come to an understanding about before something becomes contentious. I have said for decades that ‘opinions are like belly buttons – everyone has one.’ With the exception of the answer to one of my favorite riddles:

An archeologist finds 2 perfectly preserved bodies. He shouts, “I HAVE FOUND ADAM & EVE!” How did he know? Because they did not have bellybuttons!!

Adam & Eve are myths you say – that joke is irrelevant because they did not exist. Ok, I disagree, but feel free to believe what you want. That is just the way I am. But personally, in the end (i.e. Death), I am not willing to take the chance that their maker does not exist.

Anyway, back to opinions.

When my sister & I were young we played with Jarts with shiny-metal-pointy ends, Creepy Crawlers with a ‘cooker’ that got as hot as an oven it seemed, an Easy Bake Oven that cooked cookies and cakes via a 60 watt lightbulb in an dual open ended oven you could just about stick your tiny hand completely in, cap guns, fireworks, we ran with scissors, threatened each other with REAL knives (well, maybe that was just me), played with rockets that really flew at a rapid speed up into the air, you name it, the toys were out there. No warning with the exception of ‘have fun’ from the manufacturer – because people took responsibility for their own stupidity.

We had REAL toys that did REAL things that could REALLY hurt you – if you were stupid enough to do something dumb – twice. You usually learned the first time never to do that thing again – without being forewarned by big brother.

Now EVERYTHING is about safety. ‘Mustn’t hurt the baby’ is the mantra for today’s parent. Nothing too hot, nothing too cold, nothing electrical, nothing sharp, nothing except electronic toys that are ‘educational’ but do not teach the child about the real world. We are raising a generation of kids that will be geniuses in IQ, but idiots in real life.

This leads me to ‘warnings.’ I think companies have gone bonkers with their warnings – but only because people have gone crazy suing the pants off them if they do something stupid and hurt themselves with the product and then the jury awards them a gosh awful sum of money for doing that stupid thing because each jurist wants to have it in writing in the event that they do the exact same stupid thing and get hurt and they want to make darn sure that there is a precedence set already so that they will get a butt load of cash too. Not sure how much a ‘butt load’ of cash is – but in my case – using my butt as a guide – it is a lot.

Case in point:

For Mother’s Day my wonderful children got me a ‘magic curling machine’. I saw a commercial while I was out sick and just had to have one.

This morning I was using my ‘magic curling machine’ and in the mirror I noticed the warning dangling from the cord. One of many warnings. I had to look again at the one in the reflection to make sure I wasn’t seeing things – “CAUTION – THIS PRODUCT CAN BURN EYES.”

What the heck? I have become almost immune to the one that warns you not to use some electrical item in your bathtub – as if – but this warning was altogether something new.

It can burn your eyes?  Upon closer inspection I noticed that it had a picture of a regular curling iron on the warning picture – so in that respect I guess it kind of makes sense – although I have never I my life thought of using my curling iron to curl my eyelashes or my eye (can you curl an eye?) – but the warning label means that some idiot out there has tried……

This is becoming scary to you rational people now isn’t it?!

But let us take a closer look at the item attached to this warning:

You.Have.Got.To.Be.Kidding.Me.

What kind of moron would try to use this big of a hot machine so close to their eye that it could burn it? This machine is big enough to take up half your face! To top it off, the heating element is inside the big housing! How the hell would you even get the heat close to your eye?

But that warning label means that some idiot out there has burned their eye….and actually alerted the company to their stupidity (as in the purchasers stupidity, not the company’s) – and possibly even sued them.

OH WAIT, I am being too rational. I just figured it out. Some consumer out there purchased this product, was using it and their arm got soooo tired that while curling a section of their hair they rested the behemoth on their face. BAM! Burned eye.

Forgive me, I get it now. Sorry, for this post. It was right in front of me the whole time and I didn’t see it. I just didn’t understand - maybe there should have been a warning sign posted…

Squishing Please But No Probing

I must be getting old – or senile. I succumbed to the pleading from my doctor and had a mammogram today. As my doctor said, “Better 17 years late than never!” I wanted it to be never.

For the life of me I cannot figure out why I actually did it! I hate doctors because I worked for them for years and got to see the ‘medical underbelly’ of the Hippocratic Oath group and it is not pretty.

I only go to a doctor if I am mostly dead. Even then, I usually only go to tell them what I have and what prescriptions I want. Procedures that include ‘undress’ and ‘place your breastal tissue on this plate while I squeeze the life out of it’ do not fall in the category of ‘mostly dead.’ They should be lumped in the category of ‘Are you kidding me? Just how degrading can someone’s life get’. At least in my mind.

Oh, I know these tests for us ‘older’ folk have saved many a life. But – and this is a big BUT – no one in my family has died of anything more than old age or a car accident. Seriously. We are medical marvels. We probably should be scientifically studied.

Thus my belief in the uselessness of any ‘procedures’ other than say maybe a tummy tuck. Where is a plastic surgeon and $10,000 when I really need them?!

But today I let my anti-procedure guard down. All I can figure is that to me there seems to be so much useless death going on in the world today that it is messing with my mind and making me think that I might be the first casualty in our family of useless death because I did not get the stinking test done. So I relented to my minds argument and did it.

But all in all it really was not that bad. The radiologist was very nice. She used gloves so it didn't seem to be quite the violation of my personal space that I had expected. Of course I had to ask her in mid squeeze if this is what she planned to do with her life when she was young. Take x-rays of woman’s breasts? I told her I had wanted to be a teacher, had she always wanted to squish boobs? She was a good sport about the question and then actually told me her radiological history since 1975. After her exhaustive work history monologue (which I enjoyed), I began to suspect that the boob squishing gig was a bit of a demotion as she nears retirement, but to my surprise she seemed happily resigned to her fate.

It was over in a matter of minutes. She told me that they would either call me or send me a letter and then said I could get dressed.

I thanked her and then told her how nice she had been and how I wished we had met under circumstances that would have been a bit more fun and a little less 'fleshy.' I wanted to say 'nipply', but I thought that was too crass, after all, I had just met the woman.

In the end, they won’t find anything. They never do. My family's medical history considered and all. I know I have wasted my money. But, if it ever comes up again at a mostly dead doctor appointment about my age and how I need a mammogram at least I can say – already done – and the doctor can quietly put away her tablet, give me my Valium and walk away.

She knows better that to ask me about a colonoscopy. My mind is not that far gone yet and she knows that the answer to that will forever be – NOT ON YOUR LIFE!!

Squishing is one thing – probing is another thing entirely. Only aliens get to do that to me…

How Many TImes Can I Write The Word Guilt In One Post - Oh, and Happy Mother's Day!

Mother’s Day is a few days away. I am a mother. I am a grandmother. I am a great grandmother. I am too young in my mind (and in reality) to be a great grandmother, but I am not the condom police, so my control over NOT becoming the great part of the grandmother equation failed miserably. However, I like to think that I am good at all my mommy job titles.

My sister is a mother and a newly minted grandmother. Well, it has been a year, but it still seems fresh to me. She is awesome at all her mothering jobs.

Our mother is also a mother (like I even had to tell you that), a grandmother and a great grandmother. But she didn’t make the upgrade to great until she was 20 years older than me. I win! Maybe…

Unfortunately, the word great does not apply in the same context to mothering and grand mothering for my mom as it does to me, my sister, or the rest of the world.

I feel guilty just saying that.

My sister feels guilty about how she feels too – you can read this if you would like to: (http://gracefulgrandma.blogspot.com/) . It is a pretty good commentary on the situation.

My sister and I have guilt by association because we are part of a gang – a family gang. So maybe it should be guilt by RELATION. We both feel guilty about feeling guilty, but we don’t know how to 'take care of the situation' (gang speak) and we have been in this gang too many years to part ways now.

There is no winning in this guilty gang war. There is no getting out of this gang of guilt. There is no escape from corrupt parenting.

But sometimes you can't change the way you actually feel and sometimes it is ok to feel that way - sometimes you are even justified to feel as you do - but it is so hard to feel that way about someone that brought you into existence. It makes you feel GUILTY. Like there is something wrong with YOU - not HER.

So the story this year is that my sister feels guilty about not wanting to go see our mother for Mother’s Day. I feel guilty about not wanting to go see our mother for Mother’s Day. There is enough guilt between us to feed a third world country if guilt was food.

Mom is getting up there in age and what if she doesn't make it to the next Mother's Day (you guiltily tell yourself)! But, I have said that so many years and made the trek to see her, only to be in the same situation the next year, that I have lost count.

No guilt visit this year, but I did send a gift. I am sure my sister did too. I am sure they will be ‘overwhelming’ to our mother and she will feel guilty because we spent over $20 and the gifts are something new – not stuff of yard sale or rummage sale lore. It doesn’t really matter; she will take it back anyway (I even enclosed the receipt for her - to save time). I don’t care though; you have to pick your battles…

I hope my sister and I never put our children in the family gang of guilt. Guilt is an ugly thing to pass on to your children.

I don’t know what my sister is going to do for her Mother’s Day. I hope her 4 children shower her with gifts and love galore. I hope somehow she manages to be guilt free for the entire day!

Me? I am going camping in my new (used – but new to us) motorhome! And as soon as I get in the passenger seat of that RV and drive out of my driveway, I am going to leave that guilt at the house. Happy Mother’s Day to me!!

Also, Happy Mother’s Day all you mothers out there! I would have felt guilty if I had forgotten to wish everyone HMD...

Random Thoughts on a Random Day

I love Alfred Hitchcock. His sense of humor is timeless & priceless.

I wish I wanted to call my mom. But, I don’t.

I had my first gardenia bloom yesterday. Gardenias are my favorite.

I have 4 cats. That makes me half way to ‘crazy cat lady’ status.

I don’t understand why people make mountains out of molehills. My answer to that is to not answer their emails.

Silence is the best response to a fool.

If I were a super hero I would want to be Ironman. Tony Stark is rich.

If I were an animal, I of course would be a cat. Sleep, eat, purr, eat, sleep.

I would love to have a pet dragon. I wish they were real.

I have a taxidermy weasel in my office. His name is Dave.

I also have an Enterprise replica with a bobble head Spock on my desk.

I also have a coffee mug on my desk that says “Save Oxygen. Shut up.” I wish more people would pay attention to that mug some days!

I have been told that I am one lab accident away from a super villain. I hope there is a lab close by.

I like my coffee black. 

What does all this have in common? Absolutely nothing. I have not a single ounce of brain power lately and I have wanted to post something, but can’t come up with anything. I am not sure this is worth the read, but here it is…reading it is your choice…or not…

You Never Know

You never know.

Some people never come to the realization that you never know. I know I have never known for several decades. It is a comfort, but it is a devil as well. Playing with your mind. Almost making you believe sometimes that because you don't know, this may be the last second you even can think about the fact that you don't know. And so it goes.  

What am I talking about? Death of course. We live every day never really knowing if we will make it to work or not - or - make it home again.  Never having a warning that it might be your last seconds on Earth.

I just found out a person I have known for at over10 years did NOT make it home Sunday. She was 24. She was sweet and kind and always had a smile. I never once heard her complain about anything.  

I didn't really know her as you may imagine though because the only time I saw her was when I ordered food at a local restaurant. We were such frequent visitors that she knew our order before we said anything. That was it. We never went anywhere together, we never hung out, I doubt she even knew my name, but somehow we had a connection. We were friends in a way that most people do not see. Most people do not take notice of the person that takes their order or brings them their food. We did. 

We knew her name, we asked about her family and when she was pregnant we gave her a baby gift. 

That was all the relationship entailed. But I LOVED this girl - like she was my daughter. 

We went to the restaurant today. There was a computer generated sign with her picture asking for money to help her 2 young daughters. She had been killed in an auto accident Sunday. She was 24. She was too young to die. She was too sweet to die. She had too many reasons to live. 

It is odd, but normal, that when you see someone, it may never cross your mind that you will never see them again. It certainly didn't cross my mind last week when I saw her. 

It hurts me to the core that evil, malicious, and downright mean people can live to torment others for what seems to be an eternity. But good people like Brittany only last 24 short years. 

I will miss seeing her - and be reminded in a stronger way - that you never know. 

I love you all...

 

Hello? Is Anyone In there???

My husband and I haunt Goodwill. We find lots of great stuff that is ‘used’ but then becomes ‘new’ to us. Why on Sunday I found a Vera Wang purse for $15. What woman would not want a Vera Wang purse for $15??!! Sold!

Today we found a mower. I love to mow – it is my valium.

I have recently been looking at mowers. I don’t need a mower, I have one, but I want a better one. One that is self-propelled.  I am old; I need an easy push, not a push until I pass out because my mower is as old as my children mower. It practically wears me out just pulling the cord to get it started! I basically have to take a nap right after I get it started. I only mow now if my husband is around to start it.

But you don’t care about all that.

This mower looked fairly clean and little used. Another bonus. It had the famous “TESTED” sticker on it, which is supposed to mean that the staff at Goodwill has tested the product and they say it works. They loosely judge the idea of works.

I have purchased items that said “TESTED” and once I got them home found that they do not in fact work. So I am skeptical of the “TESTED” sticker.

We wanted to "TESTED" this mower ourselves. So we asked if we could. The employee we talked to initially looked at us like we had 2 heads and were spitting fire at the random furniture sitting around. He could already see the headline: “Local Goodwill Goes Up in Flames!” So, he just turned and walked away - no comment - no answer - just walked away like we hadn't even spoken to him.

So, since our interaction with him was completely useless, we searched for the manager. We found her and she was a rather talkative, but not a listening, type of woman. Here is the exchange (which is the reason for this post):

Us: We are interested in this mower. May we take it outside to make sure it works?

Manager: It just came in from another store this morning.

Us: Um yes, we are interested in this mower. May we take it outside to make sure it works?

Manager: It looks like it is a very good mower.

Us: Um yes, and we are interested in this mower. But may we take it outside to make sure it works?

Manager: I don’t know why we got it from the other store...

Us: Great, but we would like to take it outside and test it.

Manager: We don’t usually allow items that use gasoline in this store.

Us: Great, but may we TAKE IT OUTSIDE AND TEST IT?

Manager: You know, it just came from another store and we just put it out on the floor about an hour ago!

Us: Wonderful. May.We.Test.It? The door to the outside is right there (we were pointing)!

Manager: Oh, you want to test it? It has a “TESTED” sticker on it, two in fact so it must be fine.

Us: Yes, but we have purchased items before that had that sticker on it and then got the item home only to find that it actually didn’t work. Soooo, may we take the mower outside and just see for ourselves that it really works.

Manager:  I wonder why we got it from the other store. We have only had it a couple of hours.

Obviously we were not getting through to her (or she was just ignoring our request) and I was rapidly losing what little bit of self-control I possess, so I grabbed her by the shoulders, looked her square in the eye and said:

“Look, I don’t trust your “TESTED” sticker, I don’t care where it came from, how long you have had it, or whether your store allows a gas powered anything in it. I NEED to take this mower outside that door – right there – and start it myself and push it around to make sure it works. Any questions?”

She calmly answered, “Why no, go ahead.”

I think my husband and I are magnets for those who are inept or stupid. I really do.

 

 

 

P.S. No word on the buffalo yet...I will keep you posted though!

 

When Dealing WIth Buffalos - Read The Fine Print

Sometimes, just when you think all is lost in the world, to your surprise the planets align, the stars shine their brightest, God winks in your direction and you get your very own buffalo head.

Now, that kind of providence doesn’t just happen every day! I mean you have to be pretty special to get a buffalo head. Something that remarkable does not happen to just the run of mill, muddling through life, pedestrian humans. There are many individuals out there that do not appreciate the magnificence of the grand animal – which is shocking! They don’t want the planets to align, or the stars to shine, or God to even look in their direction in regard to taxidermy – and they don’t understand MY obsession. But I can’t concern myself with those kinds of trifling people. Those that know me understand.

Such a glorious day as was described above happened to me yesterday. I was beside myself with joy. I was engulfed in a world of pure taxidermy elation because I had won a taxidermy buffalo head of my dreams in an auction on eBay. There is no greater high.

But everyone is aware that with great pleasure – comes great pain. My pain came in the form of the ‘fine print’ I had not noticed in the Second Chance Offer sent to me. I hadn’t noticed the message the seller had included in that offer which said he had several ‘other’ heads and I could have one if I accepted his offer. I thought I was getting the buffalo pictured in the auction.

I was not.

Because my excitement did not let me read fine print!

I was getting a buffalo I had never met! Never even viewed! There are NO blind dates in the world of taxidermy! It just isn’t done!

When questioned, the seller offered up pictures of ‘my’ buffalo. This poor creature was a cross between Eeyore (you know – ‘thanks for noticing me’), a drunk that had been punched in the nose, and Don King.

My mind reeled, my hands shook, my heart raced. How could something so right, go so wrong? No, my mind screamed – not to me…don’t do this to ME…

I can’t take it, I am not strong enough. I begged God to take away this pain – and – that awful replica of my dream head. (Get your mind out the gutter – or is that just me?)

We have emailed back and forth and I have been offered the possibility of multiple other heads (again – mind – gutter – or only me) and the pictures of them should be sent to me in the next day or two. I hope one screams, “Pick ME, Pick ME!” But I don’t know, I am pretty taxidermy picky.

So the ecstasy and the agony continue. My fireplace waits to hang my prize in all its glory – if indeed I get a prize. I may just get my money back.

Oh, mercy me, the horror of it all. The lost innocence.

I will let you my dear readers, know of the final outcome, be it good or be it bad; be it happy or be it sad. I am strong. You be strong from me too…