Archive | April 2013

The Chase

car crash

When I was a kid, we lived just a few streets over from where the Mr. and I live now.  It’s kinda neat being back in the old neighborhood but things seemed so much bigger then.

Like the giant hill that Todd Manuel pushed me down in the first grade.   At the time, it seemed like I rolled down a mountain!

And Hiawatha, the busy street we were forbidden from riding our bikes on, but which Marti did anyway.  It doesn’t seem so busy any more.

But it’s a good thing I told on her though or else I wouldn’t have found out that she was actually riding on Chickasaw which was a parent-approved street.

Of course, Marti thinks I told on her because I was too young to read the street signs but I have a feeling it’s more because I was (WAS) a lie-ball.

Anyway, we have a lot of good memories growing up on our little dead-end street.  But one memory sticks out in my mind because it was just so bizarre.

It was the night that Molly got dragged out of bed by the police.

Let me start at the beginning:

It was a typical Wednesday night.  We were all in bed but I had woken up for some unknown reason.  Marti and I each had bedrooms in the basement so I started to go upstairs when I saw a light go by the kitchen window.  There was clearly someone outside of our house with a flashlight.

Now the only thing I’m really afraid of is EVERYTHING!!!!  So this put me in a tizzy! I ran to Marti’s room to wake her up.  She’s much braver than me, which by the way is fairly easy, but this freaked her out a little too.

Our problem was that the only way to get to Dad was to go upstairs, through the kitchen where we saw the flashlight and then through the living room with its big ole window.

Not gonna happen!!

So we decided that since Marti’s room was directly beneath Mom & Dad’s room, we would just beat on the ceiling until they woke up.  We grabbed a broom and started pounding away.


No reaction whatsoever.

These two were dead to the world.

How could they sleep at a time like this????

Then we had an idea.

Way back in the day, there was a way to call your own house with your own house phone.  I can’t remember now how we did it but we were going to give it a try.  But before we could get it figured out, the phone rang.

Now if I had been a little older and a little more worldly, I would NEVER have answered that phone.  Every horror movie ever made has one of these ominous phone calls.  DON’T PICK UP THE PHONE!!

But I went for it.

And so did Mom.

What transpired in that phone call was the most hysterical phone moment of my life.  Mom was so totally out of it and could not process what the caller was saying.  She just kept saying “Ed…..Ed……..”

Ed is my dad by the way.

So who was the caller??


Apparently they had been outside trying to wake us up for quite a while and then had the dispatcher call the house.  The nice policeman was telling Mom to go to the door and let the police in.  All he got in return was “Ed…..Ed………”

In the meantime, Dad had gotten up and gone to the front door.  As soon as we could stop laughing at Mom’s phone call, Marti and I hightailed it upstairs to see why in this world the police would be at our house in the middle of the night.

But first I must clarify.

By “middle of the night” I really mean about 11:00.

What can I say???  We’re tired people!!

So Dad goes to the door and there are polices and cop cars everywhere with lights just a flashin’!  There was also a strange car parked next to our tree out front.

And there stands Dad in his pants and t-shirt with no shoes.  That’s when my dear mother goes to the bedroom and brings him some slippers.

One of his and one of hers!!!  🙂

Bless her heart, she’s not so good in the pre-middle of the night!

When Dad got to the door, the police asked if he had a blonde-headed daughter.

Why, yes he does.

They want to know if she’s been home all night.

No, the family had all been to church earlier in the night.

{Come on, Mr. Policeman, it’s Wednesday night, for crying out loud. }

The police want to see her.

{It’s never good to say for crying out loud to the polices.}

Dad explained that she’s asleep.

Now at this point I cannot believe that ANYONE could possibly be asleep but sure enough, Molly and Marc were both snoozin’ away!

The police insisted that they needed to see Molly.

Again, Mom stepped up to the plate.

She goes into Molly’s room, gently shakes her and says “Molly, the police want to talk to you”.

What a way to wake up!!!

Now Molly is in a panic.

Not because of the police, mind you, but because of her current state of being.  See, back in the good ole days, Molly would roll her hair at night on big ole pink sponge rollers.  Not only that but she has the most porcelain skin of anybody I know so she lotions it just like her Me-maw, which is to say that her face is so slick she can hardly keep it on the pillow.

So when Mom announces that she has been summoned by the police, she starts ripping out those curlers as fast as she can and trying to wipe that oil slick off her face at the same time.

Now the police think that things are taking too long and are starting to get antsy.  But when Molly finally appears at the door it becomes quite obvious that this girl hasn’t been out in a WHILE!!

About that time our neighbor, Mr. Fortune, calls out “There she is!”  He’s pointing across the street to another neighbor’s house so all the police go running after this girl.

Apparently, this blonde girl (who we still see around town) was driving drunk and when the police tried to pull her over, she led them on a chase through our neighborhood, driving through several yards, plowing down a big hedge row.  She then made the mistake of turning up our street.  When she got to the top of the hill in front of our house and realized that it was a dead-end, she smashed into the tree and hopped out of her car.  She was hiding behind our neighbor’s house.

They got her and hauled her off to jail.

And there we stood.

PJ clad.

Dad with his one slipper.

Molly with her unrolled-Phyllis-Diller hair and no makeup.

And where was Marc???

Fast asleep.

He misses all the good stuff.




Oh Yes They Call Him The Streak

One of the drawbacks to having a fluffy dog is that he makes at trip to the groomer once a month.  Not his favorite day but he endures it.


Spring finally decided to arrive here in KY and since the Mr. and I have started to shed coats, hats, gloves and galoshes, we figured it was time for the little guy to get his first summer haircut.

He gets so hot in the summertime with all that hair so yesterday I told them to take him pretty short.

Well, they took me at my word and MY WORD is he tiny!!

One of the ladies at the vet’s office even mentioned when I came to pick him up how much smaller he is with no hair.  And when they brought him out, I could see what she meant.

My poor boy was NAKED!

As a jaybird!!!

With his still-fluffy tail and his now-giant-looking head, he looks less like a fox and more like a lion.

He’s still cute as a little button.

Don’t you agree, Debra Ann????

Here’s some pictures we took when we got home:





For the record, they always put a ribbon around his neck and he absolutely hates it!  He’s constantly scratching at it until I take it off.

Probably because he looks like a sissy wearing it!

Oh…..and also for the record………

{Who exactly is keeping up with all these records???}

{It’s certainly not me!!}

……..we weighed him at the vet’s office and he has lost 1 pound and 1 ounce in the last month.


Of course, we don’t know if that’s a loss of body fat or hair but a victory nonetheless.  🙂


A Throwback

Taj 2

I shared a few weeks ago about how Taj’s doctor said he needed to lose weight.

Well, actually he said “It wouldn’t  hurt if we saw less of of Taj”.

So really he could have been telling me to stop coming to the vet so often.

Of course,  he followed that up with “maybe 5 pounds less” and then they did the hard sell on diet dog food so I’m thinking he probably meant that Taj is a little fatty fat.

I’ve changed his food, I’ve tried to feed him less table scraps and, since the weather has warmed up, the Mr. has forced me to go along on a few more walks.

Though we have to call them “w’s” because Taj knows what “walk” means and he goes crazy with excitement and I’m filled with guilt if I’m too lazy to go, which is most of the time.

So with all these changes I really haven’t noticed any significant weight loss.

Which is weird because Taj is a boy and we all know that boys lose weight faster than girls!!!

Am I right, ladies????

Well, today I think I’ve stumbled onto the answer.

It’s not his fault that he’s big.

And more importantly, it’s not MY fault either.

He’s a throwback.

What is a throwback, you ask.

What?  You didn’t ask????

A throwback Pomeranian is “a full-grown adult Pom that is not overweight and is bigger than 14 pounds”.

That’s Taj!

And this is a real thing.

I saw it on the Facebook.

So that got me to thinking.

Am I really overweight???

Or am I just a Throwback?????




Toe Licks and the Devil

The Mr. and I had a pretty good weekend.

Not spectacular but all around pretty good.

Well, I guess it was good except for the furnace breaking.

But that’s really more of a Mr. issue.

It only affects me when I’m cold.

I’m not too concerned, though, cause the Mr. is all over it.

It’ll be fixed in a jiffy.

He’s good like that!  🙂

Since spring has finally decided to show its face, I felt like it was time to tackle a job that I have let slide since last summer.  It’s one of those dreaded activities that I really wish I could pay someone to take care of.  But since I’m pushing for a pool this summer, I figure I better attempt it on my own.

It was time to make these nasty KY feet sandal-ready.

A Herculean task to be sure.

They are bad.


I’ve shared with you before my aversion to lotion and since I also dislike shoes, it makes for really scaly feet.

I dug deep into my arsenal of unused beauty supplies and found all sorts of sanders and files and whatnot to take the sharp edges off, so yesterday afternoon I set out to pretty up these tootsies.

I got a towel, sat in the middle of the living room floor and went to work.

It was at this point that I realized that Taj had about as much appreciation for the foot sander as he does the vacuum cleaner (another tool I largely ignore).  He barked and barked and barked and barked until I worried that he was disturbing the Mr. and his Guitar Hero playing so I opted for the manual version of the sander.

I started scraping and sanding and loofa-ing until, wouldn’t you know, the little guy had to get his nose right in there.

Taj, I mean.  Not the Mr.

Taj must have thought it was pretty nifty smelling because he then decided that what those toes needed was a good dog-lickin’.

I realize that by now I’ve lost my brother’s attention.

Marc is probably by now trying not to lose his lunch and hoping that the image of my KY feet (or any feet for that matter) is not burned into his mind to give him nightmares.

The boy hates feet!!

So I finally got to the point that the sander was too dull and the feet not so gross and since Taj had given them a good bath, I moved on to the painting of the toenails.

I begged and pleaded with the Mr. to do it for me but he was too busy staring in his “rock and roll band”.

Now to clarify, even if he had been staring at the four walls, there was no way he would have agreed to paint my toenails.

I mean, he loves me and all, but there are limits, I think.

Thankfully, once I opened the nail polish, Taj took a hike!  He can’t stand the smell.

That’s pretty bad when a smell is so bad that a dog runs away.

My dad always said that if the military could figure out how to load the stuff on a missile, we’d win any war.

He exaggerates a tad.

I finally got some color slathered on there (I have a problem staying in the lines) and even painted my finger nails.  I fancied them up with a little glitter which is now on EVERYTHING!!


So this morning, I hoped right out of bed (yeah, right!) and put on a cute pink top that Marti had given me (another plus of losing weight!), slipped into my sandals and my cute denim jacket with the rhinestone butterflies that I had gotten when the Mr.’s Aunt Betty passed away (that lady had some cute clothes!!) and as I’m parading down the boulevard, the devil decided that I felt a little bit too good about myself and he was gonna put a stop to it.

He’s mean like that!

I noticed a woman walking ahead of me.

She was tall and slender and young enough that she doesn’t yet use words like “slender”.

She was dressed in a black business dress that was cut right above her knees and she was wearing a black trench coat and black high heels and was carrying a briefcase.  Very professional looking.

As I walked through the haze of perfume that was definitely not Jean Nate, I suddenly felt like a short, fat girl wearing hand-me-down clothes.

But then it hit me.

That poor girl had not one rhinestone on her clothes.

And there was no glitter on her nails.

That poor, poor girl.

How does she even get through the day dressed like that???

I added her to the church prayer list.

Bless her heart!


I Have the Power

When my brother was little, he loved super heroes.

His all time favorite was the Incredible Hulk.  He would tell us “You won’t like me when I’m angry” and proceed to grit his teeth and shake like he was transforming into the green guy.

It was quite hysterical.

Another favorite was He-man.

Marc watched that cartoon every day.  In each episode, He-man would protect the world from the evil Skeletor with the “Power of Grayskull”.

Personally, I think He-man could have used a good haircut!


I found out today that apparently I have the power as well.

Not the “Power of Grayskull” but the “Power of Laziness”.

Yes, I know.

You’re shocked!

When we lived in Silver Creek, there was a local restaurant called Red’s Pizza Express.  They served pizza and wings (big surprise!) and had the best subs.


The subs were so good that my friend, Cara, still talks about the sub she ate from there when she came to visit 11 years ago!!!

Now that’s a good sub!

Actually, everything was good at Red’s.

But the very best part was that Red’s delivered.

No need to cook.

No need to clean.

No need to even get up outta your chair.

Well, ok, you have to get up when they get to your house.

They won’t just walk in.

That would be weird.

I have to say that to-your-door delivery is the best invention.

I’m still waiting for grocery delivery.

That would be awesome!!

We ordered so often from Red’s that we eventually started getting Christmas cards.

From Red’s!!!

How embarrassing.

I asked around and nobody else that I knew got a Christmas card from Red’s.

Just us.

When you start getting Christmas cards from a restaurant, you are eating there way too much.

Today I found out on the Facebook that Red’s has officially closed.

That’s when I realized the power that is within me.

The Power of Laziness.

It was my laziness that kept Red’s in business all those years.

And it was my moving my laziness back to Kentucky that forced Red’s to close.

To all my friends in Silver Creek, I’m so sorry.

I should have used my power for good and not evil.

Goodbye, Red’s.

You will be missed.


Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Today I’m happy to announce a change in my life.

What started last weekend as a trial separation has now become permanent.

It was a difficult decision but it had to be done.


After what seems like forever and with many ups and downs, my winter coat and I have officially broken up.

I know………it’s about bloomin’ time, right?!?!?!

It seems that spring has finally arrived in the Bluegrass so, even though we’ve been through a lot together (remember the Poop Episode?) it is time to finally make the break.

I’m not sure how the coat feels but I’m feeling pretty good about it.  I know there will be mornings when I’ll long to have its warm arms around me but I’m ready to strike out on my own.

And to make the transition a little easier, I’ve taken up with a light jacket to ease the pain of those still-too-chilly mornings.  Hopefully after a couple of weeks I’ll no longer need that security and can saunter down Main Street without freezing to death.

But never fear.

I expect a reunion between me and my trusty coat sometime around the end of November/first of December.

Unless, of course, I can go for a newer, slimmer frock.

Here’s hoping!!

But in the meantime, I’m counting the days until I can rekindle my liaison with my capris.

Or as normal-height people call them “walking shorts”.

Happy Spring!!



Mrs. Magoo


For years now, my family has lovingly called me Mrs. Magoo.

Well, I’m not so sure it’s meant to be loving but they have called me that.

And I guess I deserve it.

I not only see things that AREN’T there, I don’t see stuff that IS there.

Does that make any sense whatsoever???

Probably not.

Once when Marti and I were in college, we were coming home for the weekend.  Marti was driving our hip ’76 Cutlass that was at least the size of a small yacht.  It was really, really late and we were going down a pretty curvy country road.

We were almost home when I called out “Look out!!!”

Marti hit the brakes and yelled “What is it?”

“There’s a big cow in the road!!”


“Right there!!”

The big cow turned out to be a dark blob of blacktop where the road had been patched.


A little further down the road, I shouted again……DEER!!!!

Once again, Marti jerked that boat to a stop.

You can’t be too careful out in the country.  Deer are everywhere and they don’t always stop, look, and listen.

That deer that we almost creamed…..

That deer that almost smashed our boat-car……

That deer turned out to be a red reflector on a mailbox.


But in my defense, if that mailbox had jumped out in front of us, we could have been seriously hurt!!

I come by it honest though.

My Me-maw was the queen of seeing or not seeing stuff.

She once got into a turning lane when she wasn’t planning to turn and as we kept going straight into the shoulder of the road, she declared “OH!  I done run out of road!”

We still say that around our house.

The best, though, was one Christmas when my sisters, brother and I decided that we would get each other gag gifts for Christmas.  See, in our family, everyone got you a Christmas gift until you graduated from high school.  Then you were out in the cold!!  So while our cousins were still getting presents, we got to sit and watch.  BIG FUN!!!

To clarify, that was the rule at Me-maw’s house.  Santa was always good to us.

Except maybe that year I asked for cowboy boots and got snow boots.

In Kentucky.

Snow boots.

But that’s a sad story for another day.

Actually it’s a sad story for today because that’s the whole story.


One year, the four of us thought it would be nice to have at least SOMETHING to open so we went with gag gifts.  I don’t really remember what I got or even what I gave but I will never forget what Marc got.  He opened his gift and pulled out a poster.  We all started laughing (I can’t for the life of me remember why we thought it was so funny in the first place) and then he turned it around to show the group.

Side bar:  I’m not sure if I’ve ever posted a picture of Molly on this blog but she is the only one of us kids with blonde hair.

When Marc showed us the poster, Me-maw called out “Is that Molly?”

We all busted a gut.

And here’s why:


Party time……Excellent…..