Saturday, January 31, 2009
This is the pole that brings electricity to my street. This is the stick propping up the pole that brings electricity to my street. This is the line coming from the stick propping up the pole that brings electricity to my street.This is the pole that brings electricity to my home from the line from the pole that brings electricity to my street. This is what’s left of the tree that tore up the lines from the pole that brings electricity to my home from the line from the pole that brings electricity to my street. Still with me?
No? Okay, here’s what’s left of Mama J.’s and Papa’s T.’s big trees in their front yard. Toothpick anyone? And here’s my sweet little fringe tree. Sniff. I just can’t look at it very long. I won't be pruning the roses on my trellis this spring. This is just a glimpse of my neighbor’s backyard. And another neighbor’s trees. Oh, here’s the food from my refrigerator freezer. Sigh. The bad news is we probably won’t have power at my house for several more days. The good news is we got the trees trimmed and cut down and the meter box on our house fixed by the electrician, so we’re ready for service whenever the power company gets to our neighborhood. I got to sleep in my bed last night for the first time since Sunday night. It wasn’t a long sleep, but it was GLORIOUS.
All in all, the Hula-gen’s are doing very well, compared to a lot of other folks. We have food, enough heat (gas stove and camping heater) to keep from freezing at night and water. MANY folks in this western end of the state are without water, are stuck in shelters, are running out of portable oxygen and freezing in their homes. It’s sad to see the condition some folks are in. It truly is our Katrina-minus the football stadium and convention center. Send prayers. Normal is still a long way away.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Dude, I’m am SOOOOO over winter.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
-The silver Buick clogging up the left lane on the way to work-joy stealer. Again. What’s with that broad? Oops! Maybe I stole HER joy.
-iPod tuner out of reach on the floor of the car-another joy stealer.
-Lack of time to snag my Friday sausage biscuit on the way to work, leaving me with oatmeal instead-jumbo joy stealer.
-Only one cherry in my mid-morning fruit cocktail snack-Petty larceny. The quality of fruit cocktail is judged on the number of cherries in the can, you know.
-Bank balance even though it was payday-First degree felon. Thank you broken stove and busted radiator.
-Cranky clerk at drive thru window-Jumbo value sized joy thief.
-Unfinished project that will still be waiting on me when I get back to work Monday-HUGE joy stealer.
-And see this? This is the last of thirteen gazillion plants we got at the funeral home when Hubby’s grandma died several years ago. We’ve managed to kill the rest of them, and he really wants to keep this one alive. We don’t have a good place for it in our house, so each winter I take it from our deck and bring it to work where I have to remember to water the dadburn thing for about six months. This plant? J-O-Y-S-T-E-A-L-E-R. It saps the happy right out of me to look at that thing every day all day long worrying about whether or not I’ve killed it yet.
But ya’ know what? None of it fazed me much today. I managed to let all of that little stuff slide right by me. I managed to stay in good spirits by keeping Mr. Harrell’s pearls of wisdom in mind. Hmm. Maybe he’s right. This might work. We’ll see. The real test has just gotten underway. That’s right. Family. Can I make it throughout the rest of the evening without letting those potential happiness thieves rob me blind? It all depends on how hormonal Teen Angel is and whether or not she finishes her chores. Moody sixteen year old daughter? Persistent Felony Offender. Of course, she's also the biggest source of joy in my life.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The images are moving. An eleven year old girl smiling up at her daddy, not realizing the significance of the oath he uttered. A sea of faces and waving flags radiating from the Capitol building for blocks. The O’Bama’s walking hand in hand down Pennsylvania Avenue to cheers usually reserved for rock stars instead of politicians. The images are fascinating, and I had trouble pulling myself away from them throughout the day. I could post some AP photos here, but I’d rather you take the time to look them up for yourself and review this historical moment. You know, like when you were a kid and you asked your dad how to spell a word and he said, "Go look it up in the dictionary."
Yes, I yearned to be in Washington today. To cheer on our new President and encourage those in the crowd to remember the unity of this day because we’re going to need that unity in the months to come. This man cannot do it alone. He needs everyone pulling in the same direction. He needs for us to stop pointing fingers at each other and get along. He needs the extremists in the media, liberal and conservative alike, to quit boosting their ratings with flimsy journalism-Rush Limbaugh you know who you are. (Sorry janjanmom.) He needs for the Democrats and Republicans to cross the aisles and quit being so self serving. It's time for all of us to pull up our pants and as mama says, get our &%*! together. The work starts tomorrow. But today, and just today, we pause to celebrate, and remember those who went before us throughout this rich nation's history to give us freedom and opportunity. And those who will lead us forward. I'd give my left elbow for a ticket to an inaugural ball. To dance the night away in our nation's capital. To rub my right elbow with a who's who of the political elite. And to experience history. With my own two feet. Wow. What a day.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Since 1993 we have lived next door to my in-laws, sharing, caring, sparring and generally watching out for each other. Hubby and I have often talked about how we might buy a newer home or a place with some land "one day", knowing that "one day" meant when we were done taking care of his parents. That time always seemed way off in the future, probably because we didn't want to think about the reality of being done with their care. They will be gone eventually, and that's not something we look forward to although we would like a house with more room to entertain, more closet space and as I often tell Hubby, some bathrooms big enough to turn around in without banging my *#@ on a doorknob. For years we've picked up the monthly real estate magazine and perused it like the J.C. Penney's Wish Book, pondering the pros and cons of different neighborhoods and styles of homes. We've never investigated a particular home, though. What's the point, we thought. However, today I will call about a house that's for sale, and we might even look at it. That's because we know our time next door to Mama J. and Papa T. is growing to a close. We know because Papa's T.'s dementia is getting worse.
It has accelerated somewhat in the last few months, and Friday, he kept asking Mama J. to read the newspaper to him, forgetting that she already had. He also woke up in the middle of the night and wanted something to eat, not realizing what time it was. While he has many moments of clarity, he spends much more time being confused now than he used to, and sometimes he just doesn't know what's going on. He enjoys his books on tape, but he retreats to those headphones to escape any pressures he can't handle. As I pondered this Saturday, I realized that his safety may soon become an issue. If he gets turned around in a dark house at night and tries to get into the van backwards when he takes a car ride, what's to prevent him from going outside and getting lost in the neighborhood? He is sometimes home alone when Mama J. goes to the beauty shop or an appointment. So far, he's been okay, but I think we're nearing the time when he shouldn't be left alone. Hubby thinks I'm worrying about it a little too much. But not much. He knows we've entered a new stage, a stage that's going to bring some hard decisions in the near future. Mama J. knows it, too. She knows she can't keep up with Papa T.'s daily needs anymore. It's wearing her out, even with Hubby's help. Her mobility isn't so hot either. We just don't know how much longer they can live in that house. And when they have to go, they probably won't be going to the same place. Papa T. is going to need much different care than Mama J.. Like I said, some tough decisions are ahead.
I'm not sure how soon we'll have to face them, but I really think it will be in the coming months. And as difficult as that's going to be, we may have to take the lead because none of us really wants to deal with this. We may have to initiate the move by planning our next home. That's why I will call the phone number on the For Sale sign that I jotted down this weekend. We may look at that house. We may not. At least that will get us to talking about it because it's time to take some steps in that direction. I think Mama J. realizes that. She even asked me last night if I had called about the house yet. She tried to sound upbeat about it. She feels the change in the air, too. I suspect that north wind chills her to the bones.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
1. When you take a week long vacation how many pairs of shoes do you take (just for you) and what kind are they?
2. In Sartre’s play No Exit the three main characters are stuck in a room with no exit and don’t like each other. They eventually realize that hell is being stuck with each other forever. What person or persons would be hell for you to be stuck with in a room forever? If you don’t want to name names, just speak in generalities ie..the girl who relentlessly picked on you in third grade.
3. In honor of the inauguration: If you could ask any US President, living or dead, one question and he would have to answer it HONESTLY, which President would you pick, and what question would you ask?
4. Our local newspaper does a weekly thing where they stop someone on the street, ask what the top ten songs are their iPod are and print them. What song in your entire music collection would you be most embarrassed to see in print next to your name?
5. Are you a “hat person”? If so, describe your hat or hats. If not, explain why.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
1. What is the fastest speed you've ever traveled in a car?
I’m not sure. I was afraid to open my eyes and look. I was seventeen years old and my friend M. was driving us across a rickety bridge in her boyfriend’s Trans Am. Let’s just say I was constipated for about a week because my butt was puckered so tightly.
2. While eating pizza, do you eat it open flat or do you fold it then eat?
Fold it? Are you kidding me? I truly have never understood the folding thing. I leave it flat, so as not to knock off the mushrooms. I then leave a rim of crust that is dipped in Ranch dressing and eaten last. I’ve been known to eat leftover crust off my family’s plates. I’m also the person who steals that big hunk of cheesy stuff that’s left in the middle of the box when the pieces are pulled out. Sometimes I selfishly eat the extra pepperocini before I dole out the slices.
3. What creeps you out more than anything else?
Well, there are snakes. And snakes. And then there are snakes. However, the thing that really creeps me out are those criminal types with a stalker quality about them. You know, the quiet ones who stare a lot. Years ago, I covered the trial of a guy who murdered several college women and raped them after they were dead. I looked like the women he picked, and many times I caught him staring at me during court. It gave me the willies. (What are willies exactly?) He got the death penalty but died in prison before he could be executed. He was EVIL and very creepy. I can see his face right now.
4. You are in line at the store. Person in front of you is a nasty, mean excuse for a human being. Ever get the urge to just slam them into the counter conveyor and crush their head with the Skittles display??
Sure. I get especially angry at WTSP (white trash screaming parents) who holler at their kids or fight with each other the whole time they’re in Wal-Mart. I see a lot of that around here. I used to have to resist the urge to slap this loud mouthed woman I would see in the grocery store every week running over people with her scooter and screaming obnoxious things to her six kids. Really. It was all I could do not to push over her scooter and whack her with a giant can of pork and beans.
5. When honored with something as impressive as an interview by, well, me, where do you go from here? My point is that, once you reach the pinnacle, where do you go then? Do you have any plans? Do you have a therapist dear? Do you need a tissue?
It’s all downhill from here, dahling. Although, I’ve yet to win a Kitchen-Aid mixer from the Pioneer Woman. That would certainly make my skirt fly up, as she likes to say. I don’t have a therapist, but I’m going to need one soon if I continue to live within a two block radius of all my in-laws. For now, I’m just honored to have been chosen for the Jason Show. I’d like to thank God…and my parents….and my agent……
Monday, January 12, 2009
As Scarlett says, "I'll think about that tomorrah," and show you pictures of the party instead. Here are Chris and Seth, the deejays.
Everybody say hi to Chris and Seth. Chris gives Teen Angel guitar lessons.
There was plenty of dancing. Of course there was the cha-cha. Criss cross!
And a conga line.
Hey, that reminds me of the time we were on a cruise and.... um, never mind.
They even did a little Cotton Eyed Joe. Hula, quit playing with the shutter speed!You know how's there one person who always lights up the dance floor? Meet C. I love this boy. Don't let the Hot Topic garb fool you into thinking he's some kind of disturbed goth youth. He had great manners, offered to help set up and even went to the trouble to RSVP before the party.
Dancing always leads to shoes getting kicked off. The blue and pink Crocs came to the party on the same body. I am officially an old fart because I missed that trend. Speaking of farts, don't even ask about this gift. You don't want to know. Oh, you want to know about the hat? Teen Angel's BFF bought her one as a birthday gift after T.A. bought BFF one for Christmas. Odd hats kept popping up all night. How much food can teenagers eat? As much as you can serve. I wonder what we'll think when we look back at this picture twenty years from now? One of the highlights of the night for T.A. was unveiling this. While recently revisiting the land of delusional Queen Hula agreed to let T.A. drive Hula's little red coupe when T.A. gets her license. Hula drives a company car, so she rarely drives the little red car, although she hearts the little red car lots and lots and lots. We were NOT buying T.A. a new car but agreed to dress this one up a little. The king of the Hula's took T.A. shopping for new chrome wheels last week. It was kind of a father/daughter bonding thing. He had the car detailed and helped her design a special decal in memory of her cousin.And was she pleased? Of course.Oh, I'm so not ready for her to be behind the wheel. Maybe I need a facial too.