Wednesday, December 27, 2006

* * * Notes from my snow cave, part 3 * * *

Part 3

This was the view of the toilet paper aisle at my grocery store tonight. Yes, we're getting another blizzard tomorrow. Another foot or so of snow to add the the piles we still haven't plowed from last week's little sprinkle. Last week, I thought I was so smart to stock up before the storm. This week, they are out of toilet paper, paper towels, produce (except pineapples, weird) milk, eggs, bread, most canned vegetables, meat and the deli is cleaned out. I was able to buy four boxes of FMV Kleenex, that ought to take care of my family's hygiene needs. Okay, kids. Your daily ration is 2 tissues, use them wisely! Tomorrow is yet another milk delivery day. They've not delivered since before Christmas, I'm not holding my breath. I hope they don't mind that I've upped my order to eight half gallons. Is that hoarding?

In other news, the funeral was very nice. The only really exciting part was when Mom nearly cold cocked her sister for complaining about the floral arrangement. Go Mom. Okay, she wouldn't really hit her, but under the circumstances, do you really attend a funeral for a person whom you completely alienated while living, (but still feel you are owed some of the estate) and then complain to the person who put the thing together about the stinking flowers? No, you do not. You shut up.






Tuesday, December 26, 2006

* * * Notes from my snow cave* * *



Part One

Hello, friends. I'm still here. Buried under a couple of feet of snow, but still here and still kicking, hard. I thought you might like to hear how we survived the great blizzard. When last we spoke, I was freaking out about having kids in the only schools open in our entire state during the worst blizzard in 5 years. Right after I logged off, the schools decided it might be a good idea to close early. Normally I feel guilty for driving a suburban, not that day. I put it in 4High and plowed my way toward the schools, leaving a wake of rear wheel drive cars in the ditches behind me. I'm from Montana, I know how to drive in snow and ice, 4wd or no. At the light one half block from the highschool, I cannot see the school through the snow. I pick up my daughter and her (ahem) boyfriend whose own father can't get out of his driveway (wuss) and then proceed to the junior high where we are in line behind several school buses, each one taking it's turn in getting stuck in the school drop-off/pick-up zone. Not wanting to enter that Bermuda Triangle of doom, I am able to signal for my daughter to climb out to my car. With the kids celebrating in the streets, the parents losing it behind the wheel and the bus drivers skidding into the curbs, we would still be there I am sure. Off to the elementary school where I commit the worst offense by parking in the teacher's lot. I actually wanted some hyper mother in an orange vest to ask me to move, I welcomed it. All kids safe we head back home, past all of the still-stuck cars and to our house for the duration. Before we get home, we attempt to take one of the two entryways into our neighborhood. Two cars are stuck, but I see them in time to keep going to the second option. When I get there I turn in too late to realize I am now 6th in a line of cars stuck in the snow. Mama Grizzly Bear will not be stopped. I put it in reverse, back safely onto the 40mph road, drive over the meridian and enter the neighborhood by driving up the wrong way to get around the stranded cars. I had smugly gone to the grocery store the night before and had somehow forgotten milk. Big mistake for a family that easily goes through 6 gallons a week. We have ours delivered and the milk co. has now missed two delivery days due to snow. They must be pouring it on the ground. I hope they are able to recover once we're back to normal.

Part Two

Once the snow stopped, we and our neighbors realized we could be in trouble. Our houses sit at the bottom of a hill on a street that is now a 2+ foot sea of heavy snow. It would be days before the city got plows to us, so we go together and hire a plow to dig us a path to the main road. It was a huge job. The plow ran out of gas and all the neighbors pooled their mower gas together to refill the plow. We were all so grateful, we sent the plowers (driver and 6 shovelers) off to their next job with piles of cookies and beer. They were happy.

On Christmas Eve my great Aunt Agnes died. She lived in another state and had been an Alzheimer's patient for the past few years. Agnes was 94 and a total sweetheart. She was a Worthy Advisor in Rainbow Girls, a Campfire Girl and a member of several other service groups. She called everyone "Dear" and she meant it. She was extremely generous with everything she had to offer and in her death she made clear the charities her estate was to benefit. This brings me to my new rant: funeral homes. My Mom went to the Mortuary to make the arrangements and is met by a man who honestly asked her how much she had to spend on her Aunt's funeral. Like a car salesman. Agnes wished to be cremated so Mom was shown a lovely variety of urns to hold Agnes' remains. These urns were all in the several hundred dollar range. When Mom balked, she was offered a tin box and a guilt trip. She chose a lovely urn and was then shown her choices for burial containers to hold the urn as Agnes was to be buried in her family plot. Another great range from magnificent to ply-wood. Oh, and then there is the casket. Casket?! She's being cremated! Yes, but we need a casket to move her from the mortuary to the crematorium. Um, that's across the hall. Yes, but that's they way we do it. How much would you like to spend? My Mom told them to call her when it was time and she would come and carry her Aunt across the hall herself. They came to some sort of agreement and then the accessories had to be selected. Would you like a guest book that matches the Urn? That's $120. Add matching programs? How about a lovely display board? $500. I am not kidding. I told Mom to go to Office Depot and buy a board and easel. Then they began to tell her the charges for the church. This was crossing so many lines. This guy was telling my Mom, the Deacon (Elder? Head honchette?) how much HER church would charge her for the service. She told him she would talk with the minister herself, thanks. Okay, my Mom is not cheap. She was spending her Aunt's money and there was plenty for this funeral. Agnes made clear she wanted a simple service and to be put next to her husband in the family plot. For this funeral guy to give my Mom a guilt trip, like she was cheap or not honoring her Aunt at a time like that goes beyond decency. He actually offered a near-cardboard box used for indigent people and asked if that would work. What a racket. I live in another state and we've just had this little blizzard thing so I'm not going anywhere, which is sad. And the news tells us another smaller but heavy duty storm coming in the next couple of days.

Well, that feels better. I don't even care if anyone reads this. Around these parts, if Old Mable isn't happy, well, nobody would dare to be happy. I've vented and now I'm going out to play in the snow.

Wednesday, December 20, 2006

children...must...learn...

Well, it's the worst storm to hit my area in five years. The winds at the airport are gusting at 40 mph. We're supposed to get double digit snow for two days with blizzard conditions. The news is showing wreck after wreck on the highways. The scrolling banner is listing all of the school and business closings. Virtually the entire state is closed down. Don't travel! Emergency travel only! Warning! The school district 5 miles east of here and beyond: closed. Ten miles west: closed. But OUR school district? Oh hell no, it's OPEN. Put the kids on the bus. Hi, it's pajama day at school today. Whee! I called to see if there is a back up plan and to politely point out that we are the ONLY place not addressing the weather and the office lady just repeated her speech about it being the district's decision. Who really makes these decisions? I haven't really paid all that much attention to who I've been voting for, but we must have Joe-Drill-Sergeant-walked-ten-miles-to-school-in-snow-uphill-both-ways at the helm. "It's good for 'em! Just double up their underoos and push 'em out the door!"

Saturday, December 16, 2006

another rant

For the love of all things good and holy, people! Stay home if you're sick! What is the deal with all the sick people out in public? I took my son to Kool Kuts today and while playing with the train set, another little kid who obviously had pink eye, among other ailments, came up and sneezed right on my li'l Freddy's hands! The boy's dad just sort of looked up from the Gamecube and said, "Cover your mouth". L'il Freddy's Dad picked LF up and ran for the bathroom to wash his hands. Sick kid's dad glared at all of us. It's the holiday season for pete's sake. In our house, Christmas is a big deal and it's a week away. We have plans that do not include vicks vap-o-rub. I think I've mentioned how not fun it is to visit our pediatrician? In November my family set a record of 8 visits! We are already up to 3 for December. I was thinking the Airborne people were going to lose money on my family. You know if you send in 5 boxes, they send you a free one? I've been stashing those things away for weeks. Then I read the fine print and you have to have the flipping store receipt! Don't anyone tell me Airborne doesn't really work. I don't care if it is a placebo. I haven't gotten sick at all despite a sick household. I take mine with plain old water, not Mountain Dew (ahem), which I admit is tasty, but I think they somehow counteract each other. Stay well, people and if you're not, STAY HOME! Oh, and Peace!

Monday, December 11, 2006

Christmas and the Perfect Woman

This past weekend I attended a party hosted by one of my Perfect Women. This is the one who weeds my flower beds when she visits me in the summer. Please don't get the idea that I don't like miss type A+. I really do, she and I have a lot in common. It's the things we don't share that make our friendship interesting. A+ is my own personal Martha Stewart, without the wealth. She can do it all and, if I asked her, she would come over and do it at my house, too. She's like the "Hometime" girl, only beautiful and southern. A Chi-O for those interested. On arrival her house and yard are decorated with little lights. She has brought in a small Conestoga wagon which is surrounded by lit deer. Go inside and the lights are perfectly dimmed, as she has installed dimmers this past week herself. Evergreen boughs cover each window and door frame. The Christmas tree has a nice collection of not perfect ornaments, which is a relief. When you have kids, people send them ornaments and, there you are, wondering where to place "Biker Barbie" for the best effect. A little choo choo train runs around the bottom of the tree. And, above the fireplace is a painting of... you guessed it! A regionally famous artist saw A+ and asked her to sit for him. She has a print, the original sold for $17,000. In the kitchen it's a bit out of her control as this is a potluck so nestled between her homemade sugar cookies and gingerbread boys are random dishes of meatballs and (my addition) li'l smokies. But she has provided a myriad of beverages: cocoa with or without schnapps and wassail are heating on the stovetop and a large tureen of her old family "recipe" is on the counter. This is for adults only and contains a fifth of Southern Comfort. One guy comes in wanting to show us his "fireball" trick involving Everclear and she sends him out into the snow for his pyrotechnics. All the children are included and are having a merry time in the basement which has been converted into what looks like a preschool, but is just the way A+ wants it.The kids are being kids and dumping out entire containers of Mr. PotatoHead parts, but then I watched these little boys magically pick them all up and put them away when they were finished. There is a little kitchen, a lego table, a train table, all atop a cushioned carpet. No one is fighting or crying or unhappy. How does she do it? There is a door in the wall that if you open it you will find A+'s pantry. She has carved out a pantry in a wall with no space, just what is there between the studs. The girl never fails to amaze and inspire. Knowing she would be returning my crockpot the next day, I was motivated to finish my decorating that I started Thanksgiving weekend, fold my mountain of laundry and identify the furry wad that is under the computer desk.

Monday, December 04, 2006

In denial

Ten years ago I bought the whole Lasik thing. I'd worn glasses since second grade and I was ready to do whatever I had to do to fix my vision once and for all! I remember giddily throwing my old eyeglasses in the discard basket on my way out of the surgery center. I'm free! I wish I had them today after shelling out five hundred bucks for new ones. Admittedly, the last several years without glasses or contacts have been great. But, I was every one's guinea pig.

"Hey Mable! How's that Lasik"? They would ask.

I would always answer in the ultimate affirmative and sport two thumbs up! I was a walking billboard for Dr. Moneybuckets. After a few years and a couple of pregnancies I started to notice some changes. Things are getting a tad fuzzy, let's say. I know I'm forty-ish. You don't have to tell me. I've been getting my hair colored to cover the grey for years. So, when I go to the eye doctor today to see about my Lasik "tune-up" (I even foolishly imagined they might give me a huge discount! So naive...) Dr. Moneybuckets Jr. (No one sees the real laser wizard. Not no one, not no how) pulls out every picture he's taken of my eyes to show me just how OLD I AM!

"See here? Do you have cataracts in your family? Look here, is there a history of glaucoma? Don't worry, you're probably just getting old. Remember ten years ago when we told you someday you would need reading glasses? Well that day is today."

I- drank- the- kool-aid! I didn't know it would only last a handful of years. I didn't know 40 was old and time to throw in the towel! Or 41 and a half. Would someone please tell Dr. Moneybuckets that 41 and a half is the new 31 and a half?

Sunday, December 03, 2006

Irrational Fear


I have a big, irrational fear. It haunts my dreams, causing me to startle awake frequently. I am so very afraid of Grizzly bears! Irrational, right? Kooky, to say the least. But, it is a bonafide fear of mine. I grew up in "grizzly country", in the Pacific Northwest, near a national park known as a grizzly habitat. On more than one occasion I have had to leave an area because a bear had been spotted. I've never had any up close experience with bears, I just grew up knowing you don't mess around with them. No feeding them marshmallows like the tourists. What happens when you empty the bag? Then you start to look like a big, fluffy marshmallow and the bear eats you! I remember vividly being up on a mountainside, picking huckleberries (huckleberries are this delicious little purple berry that only grows at a certain elevation and latitude, they're the coolest! And in the PNW they are a hot commodity.) which are grizzlies favorite treat, and having this guy come barreling down the mountain, telling us to get the heck out of there, he'd just been run off by a grizzly. In that situation, the car seems miles away. Everything goes in slow motion and you hope you're wearing pampers. Ever read the book, Night of the Grizzlies? On a single night in Glacier Park, two women were killed by two different grizzlies. That will scar a kid for life, obviously. Now, as a grown up, I have a little cabin in the woods on a mountain, very rough. We have a bear problem and now I'm afraid to go up there! This bear keeps climbing up the side and breaking through the window to our cabin. It can't be a very big bear, but it's obviously strong, it can bite through campbell's soup cans! I grew up in the mountains and still spend time there, but can't shake my fear of bears. You'd think a change of locale would be in order, but then we'd have to talk about sharks.

Friday, December 01, 2006

Brit's Bits

Tell me this trend of flashing your hoo-ha will pass quickly. That is so gross, I can hardly stand it. Britney, I don't know you well enough to see your c-section scar, let alone your bits and pieces. We know you're not a girl, not yet a woman, but would you hurry up and figure it out? For god's sake, how much time do you need? Obviously, you're a woman, you have those two kids, remember? Obviously, you're a big, tough woman with a high threshhold for pain, judging by the bald eagle you're sporting. (Sorry to offend, my delicate friends, but COME ON!) Oh yeah, and about that upcoming, nasty custody battle? At least K-Fed isn't out there with his business on display. He keeps it on the down low like the high class fella he is. And, note to Paris: get your car detailed, pronto.