It’s Her Happy Heavenly Birthday Today – Miss You Mom!

Happy Heavenly Birthday to my Mama!

Happy Heavenly Birthday!

Today is my mom’s heavenly birthday.

It also happens to be National Awkward Moments Day.

She would not have appreciated that.

It’s a good thing we never knew this holiday existed.

Her birthday dinners might have been, well, awkward.

Luckily, it is also National Lacy Oatmeal Cookie Day.

That’s a holiday she would have liked.

I’m making chicken tetrazzini for dinner, which I do every year for her birthday.

Maybe I will make some lacy oatmeal cookies too.

She would like that.

Happy birthday, heavenly Mom.


An Oldie But Goodie

An Oldie but Goodie

Today is a good day to revisit this particular story.

An oldie but goodie. I’m busy taking a class, and I haven’t had time to write new posts. Today is a good day to revisit this particular story.

An Oldie But Goodie

This morning I came downstairs to discover that Bob had made coffee with a paper towel as a filter.

Apparently, we are out of coffee filters.

How can that be?

I just bought a package of filters.

I suspect that they disappeared into some sort of motorcycle repair project.

That’s where all our missing household supplies end up.

I wondered if the coffee might be poisoned by the toxic, non-food-grade paper towel.


I drank it anyway.

Beware the Ides of March.

If it’s not a stabbing, it’s a poisoning.

Et tu, Bob?


I Have Only One Question

I have only one question.

I have only one question. Why didn’t the dog bark?

I have only one question about this entire episode.

The other night, the Grown Son’s car broke down.

Bob and the other Grown Son set out on a rescue mission.

They had everything under control.

I went to bed.

I had developed, over the evening, a sore throat.

I took a dose of Nyquil and went to sleep, hoping to wake up well and refreshed.

But that’s not what happened.

I’m not sure what finally woke me up.

But my phone was ringing, and there were dozens and dozens and dozens of calls and texts.

The guys had been trying to reach me, but I was zonked out on cold medicine.

They didn’t know that.

They were freaked that I wasn’t answering the phone.

Bob called the neighbor to come and ring the doorbell.

I still didn’t wake up.

Bob gave the neighbor the keypad code to come in through the garage.

“Seriously?” I asked Bob, “He was in the house? That’s how people get shot!”

Which is exactly what the neighbor was thinking.

He was hollering at me from the garage door, and when he finally heard me on the phone, he got the heck out of the house.

Oops, sorry.

I didn’t mean to scare anyone.

Next time I take Nyquil I’ll post an alert.

I have only one question.

Why didn’t the dog bark at the intruder?


The Kid Made An Excellent Point

Dots Are Terrible

Dots Are Terrible

Dots are terrible, and squares are delicious. The Kid made an excellent point many years ago, and it is still true today. There is no debate.


And squares.

There is no debate.

Dots are terrible.

Squares are delicious.

It all started with an angry, rambling rant when the Grown Son was about seven years old.

His tirade was a complete non sequitur, as most seven-year-old rants are.

I had to listen for a bit to understand just what the heck he was so angry about.


He was talking about meat.

Specifically, ground meat.

Dot meat.

He made it clear that he does not like dots.

He does not like dots in his tacos.

He does not like dots in his spaghetti sauce.

He does not like dots in his chili.

Dots are terrible.

Squares are delicious.

I don’t usually give much credence to angry tirades.

But I had to admit that the kid made an excellent point.

Squares ARE delicious.

I made a pot of chili for dinner tonight.

I used cubed chuck.

There were no dots.

There were only squares.

It was tasty.

The kid was right all along.


A Brilliant Opportunity For Revenge Was Dropped Right In My Lap!

A brilliant opportunity

A brilliant opportunity for revenge was dropped right in my lap! Unfortunately, I was forced to fugedaboudit. Sigh.

A Brilliant Opportunity


Sweet, sweet Karma.

She’s always got your back.


Years ago, Bob and I had a dispute with another party.

I won’t mention the details here.

That would be petty and childish.

At the time, all we could do was forget about it and move on.

I haven’t thought about this thing in years.

The other day, Karma dropped an opportunity right in my lap.

“Hey check this out!” I chortled, interrupting Bob at work.

Revenge is a perfectly good reason to interrupt.

Bob didn’t seem to agree.

“We could -” I started.


“But it would be-”


“Why don’t we-”

“Let it go!” he stormed, but not in a cute Disney movie sort of way.


We have a brilliant opportunity for vengeance here.

Are we going to waste it with maturity and responsibility?

Apparently we are.

I may or may not have grumbled and stomped out of the room.

Now that some time has passed, I’m glad we took the high road.

Perhaps maturity and responsibility were the right choices all along.

OK, I’ll say it, he was right, and I was wrong.

But don’t tell him I said that.

He would gloat.

And that would be petty and childish.


I Had a Dream About My Mother That Left Me Feeling Bittersweet

I had a bittersweet dream about my mother

A Bittersweet Dream About My Mother

I had a bittersweet dream about my mother.

I can clearly recall the cadence of our conversation.

I can clearly recall the rise and fall of our voices.

I can clearly recall the light in her eyes when she laughed.

It was a beautiful day.

The sun was shining.

That was a significant element of the dream.

“It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining,” Mom would often say.

Our family was chock full of Drama Queens.

An angry outburst was always imminent.

Mom would say that line to try to diffuse the tension.

However, she said it so often that it became a joke.

One of the Drama Queens would always try to beat her to the punch line.

Always with a sarcastic, snarky tone of voice.

Immediately, the angry outburst that my mother was trying to stave off would detonate.

But I digress.

In my dream, it was a beautiful day, and the sun was shining.

We were having such a lovely conversation.

Suddenly Mom looked at me sadly and POOF, she was gone.

I woke up abruptly.

I’m sad that it was just a dream.

But I’m happy that I got to have that bittersweet memory.

I loved my mother’s laugh.


Cough Syrup, Regret, and Desperation.

Cough syrup, regret and desperation

Cough Syrup, Regret, and Desperation

Three Reasons Not To Drink This Drink

The Grown Son was surprised that I had never tried Jagermeister.

He insisted on making me a drink.

Jagermeister and Red Bull.

He used sugar-free Red Bull.

Apparently it’s better that way.

Sorry, Kid, but that sugar-free stuff doesn’t help.

Not one bit.

The drink was terrible.

It tasted like cough syrup and regret.

With a strong hint of desperation.

Yeah, nah, I’ll pass.

I’m way past all that desperation nonsense.

I have reached that IDGAF stage of life.

Is there a drink for that?


No More Slumber Parties

No more slumber parties!

No More Slumber Parties

No more slumber parties! Boys are dumb, and they only get dumber late at night. I have the ER bills to prove it.

Long ago, I put a stop to my sons’ sleepovers.

I had to.

It’s because boys are dumb.

I’m sorry, but it’s true.

“Hey, watch this,” and “Dude, look what I can do,” proves my point.

It always ends badly.

Groups of boys are significantly dumber than solitary boys.

The dumbness grows exponentially in the wee hours of the night.

The collective dumbness of a group of boys late at night is significantly greater than the sum of their individual parts during daylight hours.

I know.

I have the emergency room bills to prove it.

No more slumber parties.

Family Lifestyle

Sticker Shock At The Grocery Store

Sticker shock at the grocery store

What is up with the outrageous sticker shock at the grocery store? The Grown Son is not going to get his Buffalo chicken wings for dinner.

What is up with the outrageous sticker shock at the grocery store?

The post-surgical Grown Son requested Buffalo chicken wings for dinner.

He’s not going to get it.

Not at that price.

What is going on?

Prices are outrageous.

The produce looks terrible.

And there are a lot of items out of stock.

The Grown Son is not going to get Buffalo chicken wings for dinner.

He will get Buffalo chicken drumsticks.

If he doesn’t like it, he can go shopping and pay for those overpriced wings himself.



How To Survive Those Postop Days In One Stupidly Easy Step

How to survive those postop days in one stupidly easy step.

Those pills kept the patient and the caregiver very, very happy!

It was a stupidly easy solution.

The Grown Son did very well post operatively.

He was on a lot of pain pills.

We spent several lovely days binging The Wire.

However, it’s time to start cutting back on the medications.

Now he is cranky.

Very cranky.

Those pills killed both of our problems.

I’m going to miss that peaceful, post-surgical mood.

Those pain pills were a stupidly easy solution to all kinds of problems.

Now I need to get him well enough to get his cranky a$$ back to his own apartment.